NRLF 


ME1 


EDGAR  AtLAN  POE 


EBMM 


GIFT   OF 
W.   H.   Smyth 


IRaven  Bbition 


THE  WORKS  OF 

EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

IN    FIVE     VOLUMES 


FRONTISPIECE  IN  COLOR  FROM  PAINTING 

By    ARTH  U  R     E.    BECHER 


VOLUME    ONE 


NEW     YORK 

P.     F.     COLLIER    &     SON 

M  C  M  I  V 


COPYRIGHT  1903 
By  P.  F.  COLLIER  &  SON 


\ 


THE    WORKS    OF 
EDGAR     ALLAN     POE 


-Po«— 1 


CONTENTS 

PREFACE       5 

» 

LIFE    OF    POE 15 

DEATH    OF   POE 27 

THE    UNPARALLELED    ADVENTURE    OF    ONE    HANS 

PFAALL c      ...  39 

THE    GOLD-BUG 121 

FOUR  BEASTS  IN  ONE 178 

THE  MURDERS  IN  THE  RUE  MORGUE IQI 

THE    MYSTERY   OF   MARIE   ROGET 248 

THE    BALLOON-HOAX 328 

MS.  FOUND  IN  A  BOTTLE 349 

THE    OVAL    PORTRAIT 366 


M101096 


EDGAR  ALLAN   POE 

AN  APPRECIATION 

Caught  from  some  unhappy  master  whom  unmerciful 
Disaster 

Followed  fast  and  followed  faster  till  his  songs  one  bur 
den  bore — 

Till  the  dirges  of  his  Hope  that  melancholy  burden  bore 
Of  "never — never  more!" 

THIS  stanza  from  "The  Raven"  was  recom 
mended  by  James  Russell  Lowell  as  an  inscription 
upon  the  Baltimore  monument  which  marks  the  rest 
ing  place  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  the  most  interesting 
and  original  figure  in  American  letters.  And,  to 
signify  that  peculiar  musical  quality  of  Poe's  gen 
ius  which  inthralls  every  reader,  Mr.  Lowell  sug 
gested  this  additional  verse,  from  the  "Haunted 
Palace" : 

And  all  with  pearl  and  ruby  glowing 

Was  the  fair  palace  door, 
Through  which  came  flowing,  flowing,  flowing, 

And  sparkling  ever  more, 
A  troop  of  Echoes,  whose  sweet  duty 

Was  but  to  sing, 
In  voices  of  surpassing  beauty, 

The  wit  and  wisdom  of  their  king. 

Born  in  poverty  at  Boston,  January  19,  1809, 
dying  under  painful  circumstances  at  Baltimore,  Oc 
tober  7,  1849,  ms  whole  literary  career  of  scarcely 
fifteen  years  a  pitiful  struggle  for  mere  subsistence, 
his  memory  malignantly  misrepresented  by  his  ear- 


A   Memoir 


liest:bib:grapher,  Griswold,  how  completely  has  truth 
at!  Jast :  routed  falsehood  and  how  magnificently  has 
Poe  come  into  his  own.  For  "The  Raven,"  first 
published  in  1845,  and>  within  a  few  months,  read, 
recited  and  parodied  wherever  the  English  language 
was  spoken,  the  half -starved  poet  received  $10! 
Less  than  a  year  later  his  brother  poet,  N.  P.  Willis, 
issued  this  touching  appeal  to  the  admirers  of  gen 
ius  on  behalf  of  the  neglected  author,  his  dying 
wife  and  her  devoted  mother,  then  living  under  very 
straitened  circumstances  in  a  little  cottage  at  Ford- 
ham,  N.  Y. : 

"Here  is  one  of  the  finest  scholars,  one  of  the 
most  original  men  of  genius,  and  one  of  the  most 
industrious  of  the  literary  profession  of  our  coun 
try,  whose  temporary  suspension  of  labor,  from 
bodily  illness,  drops  him  immediately  to  a  level  with 
the  common  objects  of  public  charity.  There  is  no 
intermediate  stopping-place,  no  respectful  shelter, 
where,  with  the  delicacy  due  to  genius  and  culture, 
he  might  secure  aid,  till,  with  returning  health,  he 
would  resume  his  labors,  and  his  unmortified  sense 
of  independence." 

And  this  was  the  tribute  paid  by  the  American 
public  to  the  master  who  had  given  to  it  such  tales 
of  conjuring  charm,  of  witchery  and  mystery  as 
'The  Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher"  and  "Ligea" ; 
such  fascinating  hoaxes  as  "The  Unparalleled  Ad 
venture  of  Hans  Pfaall,"  "MSS.  Found  in  a  Bot- 


A    Memoir  7 

tie,"  "A  Descent  Into  a  Maelstrom"  and  "The  Bal 
loon  Hoax";  such  tales  of  conscience  as  "William 
Wilson,"  "The  Black  Cat"  and  "The  Tell-tale 
Heart,"  wherein  the  retributions  of  remorse  are  por 
trayed  with  an  awful  fidelity;  such  tales  of  natural 
beauty  as  "The  Island  of  the  Fay"  and  "The  Do 
main  of  Arnheim" ;  such  marvellous  studies  in  ra 
tiocination  as  the  "Gold-bug,"  "The  Murders  in  the 
Rue  Morgue,"  "The  Purloined  Letter"  and  "The 
Mystery  of  Marie  Roget,"  the  latter,  a  recital  of 
fact,  demonstrating  the  author's  wonderful  capa 
bility  of  correctly  analyzing  the  mysteries  of  the  hu 
man  mind ;  such  tales  of  illusion  and  banter  as  "The 
Premature  Burial"  and  "The  System  of  Dr.  Tarr 
and  Professor  Fether";  such  bits  of  extravaganza 
as  "The  Devil  in  the  Belfry"  and  "The  Angel  of  the 
Odd" ;  such  tales  of  adventure  as  "The  Narrative  of 
Arthur  Gordon  Pym" ;  such  papers  of  keen  criticism 
and  review  as  won  for  Poe  the  enthusiastic  admira 
tion  of  Charles  Dickens,  although  they  made  him 
many  enemies  among  the  over-puffed  minor  Ameri 
can  writers  so  mercilessly  exposed  by  him;  such 
poems  of  beauty  and  melody  as  "The  Bells,"  "The 
Haunted  Palace,"  "Tamerlane,"  "The  City  in  the 
Sea"  and  "The  Raven."  What  delight  for  the  jaded 
senses  of  the  reader  is  this  enchanted  domain  of 
wonder-pieces !  What  an  atmosphere  of  beauty,  mu 
sic,  color!  What  resources  of  imagination,  con 
struction,  analysis  and  absolute  art !  One  might  al- 


8  A   Memoir 

most  sympathize  with  Sarah  Helen  Whitman,  who, 
confessing  to  a  half  faith  in  the  old  superstition  of 
the  significance  of  anagrams,  found,  in  the  trans 
posed  letters  of  Edgar  Poe's  name,  the  words  "a 
God-peer."  His  mind,  she  says,  was  indeed  a 
"Haunted  Palace,"  echoing  to  the  footfalls  of  an 
gels  and  demons. 

"No  man,"  Poe  himself  wrote,  "has  recorded,  no 
man  has  dared  to  record,  the  wonders  of  his  inner 
life." 

In  these  twentieth  century,  days  of  lavish  recog 
nition — artistic,  popular  and  material— of  genius, 
what  rewards  might  not  a  Poe  claim! 

Edgar's  father,  a  son  of  General  David  Poe,  the 
American  revolutionary  patriot  and  friend  of  La 
fayette,  had  married  Mrs.  Hopkins,  an  English 
actress,  and,  the  match  meeting  with  parental 
disapproval,  had  himself  taken  to  the  stage  as  a 
profession.  Notwithstanding  Mrs.  Poe's  beauty  and 
talent  the  young  couple  had  a  sorry  struggle  for  ex 
istence.  When  Edgar,  at  the  age  of  two  years,  was 
orphaned,  the  family  was  in  the  utmost  destitution. 
Apparently  the  future  poet  was  to  be  cast  upon  the 
world  homeless  and  friendless.  But  fate  decreed 
that  a  few  glimmers  of  sunshine  were  to  illumine 
his  life,  for  the  little  fellow  was  adopted  by  John 
Allan,  a  wealthy  merchant  of  Richmond,  Va.  A 
brother  and  sister,  the  remaining  children,  were 
cared  for  by  others. 


A    Memoir  9 

In  his  new  home  Edgar  found  all  the  luxury  and 
advantages  money  could  provide.  He  was  petted, 
spoiled  and  shown  off  to  strangers.  In  Mrs.  Allan 
he  found  all  the  affection  a  childless  wife  could  be 
stow.  Mr.  Allan  took  much  pride  in  the  captivat 
ing,  precocious  lad.  At  the  age  of  five  the  boy  re 
cited,  with  fine  effect,  passages  of  English  poetry  to 
the  visitors  at  the  Allan  house. 

From  his  eighth  to  his  thirteenth  year  he  at 
tended  the  Manor  House  school,  at  Stoke-Newing- 
ton,  a  suburb  of  London.  It  was  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Bransby,  head  of  the  school,  whom  Poe  so  quaintly 
portrayed  in  "William  Wilson."  Returning  to  Rich 
mond  in  1820  Edgar  was  sent  to  the  school  of  Pro 
fessor  Joseph  H.  Clarke.  He  proved  an  apt  pupil. 
Years  afterward  Professor  Clarke  thus  wrote: 

"While  the  other  boys  wrote  mere  mechanical 
verses,  Poe  wrote  genuine  poetry;  the  boy  was  a 
born  poet.  As  a  scholar  he  was  ambitious  to  ex 
cel.  He  was  remarkable  for  self-respect,  without 
haughtiness.  He  had  a  sensitive  and  tender  heart 
and  would  do  anything  for  a  friend.  His  nature 
was  entirely  free  from  selfishness." 

At  the  age  of  seventeen  Poe  entered  the  Univer 
sity  of  Virginia  at  Charlottesville.  He  left  that  in 
stitution  after  one  session.  Official  records  prove 
that  he  was  not  expelled.  On  the  contrary,  he 
gained  a  creditable  record  as  a  student,  although  it 
is  admitted  that  he  contracted  debts  and  had  "an 


io  A   Memoir 

ungovernable  passion  for  card-playing."  These 
debts  may  have  led  to  his  quarrel  with  Mr.  Allan 
which  eventually  compelled  him  to  make  his  own 
way  in  the  world. 

Early  in  1827  Poe  made  his  first  literary  venture. 
He  induced  Calvin  Thomas,  a  poor  and  youthful 
printer,  to  publish  a  small  volume  of  his  verses  un 
der  the  title  "Tamerlane  and  Other  Poems."  In 
1829  we  find  Poe  in  Baltimore  with  another  manu 
script  volume  of  verses,  which  was  soon  published. 
Its  title  was  "Al  Aaraaf,  Tamerlane  and  Other 
Poems."  Neither  of  these  ventures  seems  to  have 
attracted  much  attention. 

Soon  after  Mrs.  Allan's  death,  which  occurred  in 
1829,  Poe,  through  the  aid  of  Mr.  Allan,  secured 
admission  to  the  United  States  Military  Academy 
at  West  Point.  Any  glamour  which  may  have  at 
tached  to  cadet  life  in  Poe's  eyes  was  speedily  lost, 
for  discipline  at  West  Point  was  never  so  severe  nor 
were  the  accommodations  ever  so  poor.  Poe's  bent 
was  more  and  more  toward  literature.  Life  at  the 
academy  daily  became  increasingly  distasteful. 
Soon  he  began  to  purposely  neglect  his  studies  and 
to  disregard  his  duties,  his  aim  being  to  secure  his 
dismissal  from  the  United  States  service.  In  this 
he  succeeded.  On  March  7,  1831,  Poe  found  him 
self  free.  Mr.  Allan's  second  marriage  had  thrown 
the  lad  on  his  own  resources.  His  literary  career 
was  to  begin. 


A   Memoir  n 

Poe's  first  genuine  victory  was  won  in  1833,  when 
he  was  the  successful  competitor  for  a  prize  of  $100 
offered  by  a  Baltimore  periodical  for  the  best  prose 
story.  "A  MSS.  Found  in  a  Bottle"  was  the  win 
ning  tale.  Poe  had  submitted  six  stories  in  a  vol 
ume.  "Our  only  difficulty,"  says  Mr.  Latrobe,  one 
of  the  judges,  "was  in  selecting  from  the  rich  con 
tents  of  the  volume." 

During  the  fifteen  years  of  his  literary  life  Poe 
was  connected  with  various  newspapers  and  maga 
zines  in  Richmond,  Philadelphia  and  New  York. 
He  was  faithful,  punctual,  industrious,  thorough. 
N.  P.  Willis,  who  for  some  time  employed  Poe  as 
critic  and  sub-editor  on  the  "Evening  Mirror/' 
wrote  thus : 

"With  the  highest  admiration  for  Poe's  genius, 
and  a  willingness  to  let  it  alone  for  more  than  or 
dinary  irregularity,  we  were  led  by  common  report 
to  expect  a  very  capricious  attention  to  his  duties, 
and  occasionally  a  scene  of  violence  and  difficulty. 
Time  went  on,  however,  and  Ke  was  invariably 
punctual  and  industrious.  We  saw  but  one  present 
iment  of  the  man — a  quiet,  patient,  industrious  and 
most  gentlemanly  person. 

"We  heard,  from  one  who  knew  him  well  (what 
should  be  stated  in  all  mention  of  his  lamentable  ir 
regularities),  that  with  a  single  glass  of  wine  his 
whole  nature  was  reversed,  the  demon  became  up 
permost,  and,  though  none  of  the  usual  signs  of  in- 


12  A   Memoir 

toxication  were  visible,  his  will  was  palpably  insane. 
In  this  reversed  character,  we  repeat,  it  was  never 
our  chance  to  meet  him." 

On  September  22,  1835,  Poe  married  his  cousin, 
Virginia  Clemm,  in  Baltimore.  She  had  barely 
turned  thirteen  years,  Poe  himself  was  but  twenty- 
six.  He  then  was  a  resident  of  Richmond  and  a 
regular  contributor  to  the  "Southern  Literary  Mes 
senger."  It  was  not  until  a  year  later  that  the 
bride  and  her  widowed  mother  followed  him  thither. 

Poe's  devotion  to  his  child-wife  was  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  features  of  his  life.  Many  of  his 
famous  poetic  productions  were  inspired  by  her 
beauty  and  charm.  Consumption  had  marked  her 
for  its  victim,  and  the  constant  efforts  of  husband 
and  mother  were  to  secure  for  her  all  the  comfort 
and  happiness  their  slender  means  permitted.  Vir 
ginia  died  January  30,  1847,  when  but  twenty-five 
years  of  age.  A  friend  of  the  family  pictures  the 
death-bed  scene — mother  and  husband  trying  to  im 
part  warmth  to  her  by  chafing  her  hands  and  her 
feet,  while  her  pet  cat  was  suffered  to  nestle  upon 
her  bosom  for  the  sake  of  added  warmth. 

These  verses  from  "Annabel  Lee,"  written  by  Poe 
in  1849,  ^e  last  year  of  his  life,  tell  of  his  sorrow 
at  the  loss  of  his  child-wife : 

I  was  a  child  and  she  was  a  child, 

In  a  kingdom  by  the  sea; 
But  we  loved  with  a  love  that  was  more  than  love— 

I  and  my  Annabel  Lee; 


A    Memoir  13 

With  a  love  that  the  winged  seraphs  of  heaven 

Coveted  her  and  me. 
And  this  was  the  reason  that,  long  ago, 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea. 
A  wind  blew  out  of  a  cloud,  chilling 

My  beautiful  Annabel  Lee; 
So  that  her  high-born  kinsmen  came 

And  bore  her  away  from  me, 
To  shut  her  up  in  a  sepulchre 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea, 

Poe  was  connected  at  various  times  and  in  various 
capacities  with  the  "Southern  Literary  Messenger" 
in  Richmond,  Va. ;  "Graham's  Magazine"  and  the 
"Gentleman's  Magazine"  in  Philadelphia;  the 
"Evening  Mirror,"  the  "Broadway  Journal,"  and 
"Godey's  Lady's  Book"  in  New  York.  Everywhere 
Poe's  life  was  one  of  unremitting  toil.  No  tales 
and  poems  were  ever  produced  at  a  greater  cost 
of  brain  and  spirit. 

Poe's  initial  salary  with  the  "Southern  Literary 
Messenger,"  to  which  he  contributed  the  first  drafts 
of  a  number  of  his  best-known  tales,  was  $10  a 
week !  Two  years  later  his  salary  was  but  $600  a 
year.  Even  in  1844,  when  his  literary  reputation 
was  established  securely,  he  wrote  to  a  friend  ex 
pressing  his  pleasure  because  a  magazine  to  which 
he  was  to  contribute  had  agreed  to  pay  him  $20 
monthly  for  two  pages  of  criticism. 

Those  were  discouraging  times  in  American  lit 
erature,  but  Poe  never  lost  faith.  He  was  finally 
to  triumph  wherever  pre-eminent  talents  win  ad- 


14  A   Memoir 

mirers.  His  genius  has  had  no  better  description 
than  in  this  stanza  from  William  Winter's  poem, 
read  at  the  dedication  exercises  of  the  Actors'  Mon 
ument  to  Poe,  May  4,  1885,  in  New  York: 

He  was  the  voice  of  beauty  and  of  woe, 
Passion  and  mystery  and  the  dread  unknown; 
Pure  as  the  mountains  of  perpetual  snow, 
Cold  as  the  icy  winds  that  round  them  moan, 
Dark  as  the  caves  wherein  earth's  thunders  groan, 
Wild  as  the  tempests  of  the  upper  sky, 
Sweet  as  the  faint,  far-off  celestial  tone  of  angel  whis 
pers,  fluttering  from  on  high, 
And  tender  as  love's  tear  when  youth  and  beauty  die. 

In  the  two  and  a  half  score  years  that  have  elapsed 
since  Poe's  death  he  has  come  fully  into  his  own. 
For  a  while  Griswold's  malignant  misrepresenta 
tions  colored  the  public  estimate  of  Poe  as  man  and 
as  writer.  But,  thanks  to  J.  H.  Ingram,  W.  F. 
Gill,  Eugene  Didier,  Sarah  Helen  Whitman  and 
others  these  scandals  have  been  dispelled  and  Poe 
is  seen  as  he  actually  was — not  as  a  man  without 
failings,  it  is  true,  but  as  the  finest  and  most  origi 
nal  genius  in  American  letters.  As  the  years  go 
on  his  fame  increases.  His  works  have  been  trans 
lated  into  many  foreign  languages.  His  is  a  house 
hold  name  in  France  and  England — in  fact,  the  lat 
ter  nation  has  often  uttered  the  reproach  that  Poe's 
own  country  has  been  slow  to  appreciate  him.  But 
that  reproach,  if  it  ever  was  warranted,  certainly  is 
untrue.  W.  H.  R. 


EDGAR    ALLAN     POE* 

BY  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL 

THE  situation  of  American  literature  is  anoma 
lous.  It  has  no  centre,  or,  if  it  have,  it  is  like  that 
of  the  sphere  of  Hermes.  It  is  divided  into  many 
systems,  each  revolving  round  its  several  suns,  and 
often  presenting  to  the  rest  only  the  faint  glimmer 
of  a  milk-and-water  way.  Our  capital  city,  unlike 
London  or  Paris,  is  not  a  great  central  heart  from 
which  life  and  vigor  radiate  to  the  extremities,  but 
resembles  more  an  isolated  umbilicus  stuck  down  as 
near  as  may  be  to  the  centre  of  the  land,  and  seem 
ing  rather  to  tell  a  legend  of  former  usefulness  than 
to  serve  any  present  need.  Boston,  New  York, 
Philadelphia,  each  has  its  literature  almost  more  dis 
tinct  than  those  of  the  different  dialects  of  Germany ; 
and  the  Young  Queen  of  the  West  has  also  one  of 
her  own,  of  which  some  articulate  rumor  barely  has 
reached  us  dwellers  by  the  Atlantic. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  task  more  difficult  than  the 
just  criticism  of  contemporary  literature.  It  is  even 
more  grateful  to  give  praise  where  it  is  needed  than 
where  it  is  deserved,  and  friendship  so  often  se 
duces  the  iron  stylus  of  justice  into  a  vague  flourish, 
that  she  writes  what  seems  rather  like  an  epitaph 

*  The  following  notice  of  Mr.  Poe's  life  and  works  was 
written  at  his  own  request,  and  accompanied  a  portrait  of  him, 
published  in  "Graham's  Magazine"  for  February,  1845,  under 
the  general  heading,  "Our  Contributors— No.  XVII."  It  i§ 
here  reprinted,  with  a  few  alterations  and  omissions. 

05) 


1 6  Life   of    Poe 

than  a  criticism.  Yet  if  praise  be  given  as  an  alms, 
we  could  not  drop  so  poisonous  a  one  into  any 
man's  hat.  The  critic's  ink  may  suffer  equally 
from  too  large  an  infusion  of  nutgalls  or  of  sugar. 
But  it  is  easier  to  be  generous  than  to  be  just,  and 
we  might  readily  put  faith  in  that  fabulous  direction 
to  the  hiding  place  of  truth,  did  we  judge  from 
the  amount  of  water  which  we  usually  find  mixed 
with  it. 

Remarkable  experiences  are  usually  confined  to 
the  inner  life  of  imaginative  men,  but  Mr.  Poe's 
biography  displays  a  vicissitude  and  peculiarity  of 
interest  such  as  is  rarely  met  with.  The  offspring 
of  a  romantic  marriage,  and  left  an  orphan  at  an 
early  age,  he  was  adopted  by  Mr.  Allan,  a  wealthy 
Virginian,  whose  barren  marriage-bed  seemed  the 
warranty  of  a  large  estate  to  the  young  poet. 

Having  received  a  classical  education  in  Eng 
land,  he  returned  home  and  entered  the  University 
of  Virginia,  where,  after  an  extravagant  course,  fol 
lowed  by  reformation  at  the  last  extremity,  he  was 
graduated  with  the  highest  honors  of  his  class. 
Then  came  a  boyish  attempt  to  join  the  fortunes  of 
the  insurgent  Greeks,  which  ended  at  St.  Peters 
burg,  where  he  got  into  difficulties  through  want  of 
a  passport,  from  which  he  was  rescued  by  the  Ameri 
can  consul  and  sent  home.  He  now  entered  the 
military  academy  at  West  Point,  from  which  he 
obtained  a  dismissal  on  hearing  of  the  birth  of  a  son 
to  his  adopted  father,  by  a  second  marriage,  an 
event  which  cut  off  his  expectations  as  an  heir.  The 
death  of  Mr.  Allan,  in  whose  will  his  name  was  not 
mentioned,  soon  after  relieved  him  of  all  doubt  in 
this  regard,  and  he  committed  himself  at  once  to 


Life   of   Poe  17 

authorship  for  a  support.  Previously  to  this,  how 
ever,  he  had  published  (in  1827)  a  small  volume  of 
poems,  which  soon  ran  through  three  editions,  and 
excited  high  expectations  of  its  author's  future  dis 
tinction  in  the  minds  of  many  competent  judges. 

That  no  certain  augury  can  be  drawn  from  a 
poet's  earliest  lispings  there  are  instances  enough  to 
prove.  Shakespeare's  first  poems,  though  brimful 
of  vigor  and  youth  and  picturesqueness,  give  but  a 
very  faint  promise  of  the  directness,  condensation 
and  overflowing  moral  of  his  maturer  works.  Per 
haps,  "however,  Shakespeare  is  hardly  a  case  in 
point,  his  "Venus  and  Adonis"  having  been  pub 
lished,  we  believe,  in  his  twenty-sixth  year.  Mil 
ton's  Latin  verses  show  tenderness,  a  fine  eye  for 
nature,  and  a  delicate  appreciation  of  classic  models, 
but  give  no  hint  of  the  author  of  a  new  style  in 
poetry.  Pope's  youthful  pieces  have  all  the  sing 
song,  wholly  unrelieved  by  the  glittering  malignity 
and  eloquent  irreligion  of  his  later  productions. 
Collins'  callow  namby-pamby  died  and  gave  no  sign 
of  the  vigorous  and  original  genius  which  he  after 
ward  displayed.  We  have  never  thought  that  the 
world  lost  more  in  the  "marvellous  boy,"  Chatter- 
ton,  than  a  very  ingenious  imitator  of  obscure  and 
antiquated  dulness.  Where  he  becomes  original  (as 
it  is  called),  the  interest  of  ingenuity  ceases  and  he 
becomes  stupid.  Kirke  White's  promises  were  in 
dorsed  by  the  respectable  name  of  Mr.  Southey,  but 
surely  with  no  authority  from  Apollo.  They  have 
the  merit  of  a  traditional  piety,  which  to  our  mind, 
if  uttered  at  all,  had  been  less  objectionable  in  the 
retired  closet  of  a  diary,  and  in  the  sober  raiment  of 
prose.  They  do  not  clutch  hold  of  the  memory  with 


1 8  Life  of   Poe 

the  drowning  pertinacity  of  Watts;  neither  have 
they  the  interest  of  his  occasional  simple,  lucky 
beauty.  Burns  having  fortunately  been  rescued  by 
his  humble  station  from  the  contaminating  society 
of  the  "Best  models,"  wrote  well  and  naturally  from 
the  first.  Had  he  been  unfortunate  enough  to  have 
had  an  educated  faste,  we  should  have  had  a  series 
of  poems  from  which,  as  from  his  letters,  we  could 
sift  here  and  there  a  kernel  from  the  mass  of  chaff. 
Coleridge's  youthful  efforts  give  no  promise  what 
ever  of  that  poetical  genius  which  produced  at  once 
the  wildest,  tenderest,  most  original  and  most  purely 
imaginative  poems  of  modern  times.  Byron's 
"Hours  of  Idleness"  would  never  find  a  reader  ex 
cept  from  an  intrepid  and  indefatigable  curiosity.  In 
Wordsworth's  first  preludings  there  is  but  a  dim 
foreboding  of  the  creator  of  an  era.  From  Southey's 
early  poems,  a  safer  augury  might  have  been  drawn. 
They  show  the  patient  investigator,  the  close  stu 
dent  of  history,  and  the  unwearied  explorer  of  the 
beauties  of  predecessors,  but  they  give  no  assurances 
of  a  man  who  should  add  aught  to  stock  of  house 
hold  words,  or  to  the  rarer  and  more  sacred  delights 
of  the  fireside  or  the  arbor.  The  earliest  specimens 
of  Shelley's  poetic  mind  already,  also,  give  tokens  of 
that  ethereal  sublimation  in  which  the  spirit  seems  to 
soar  above  the  regions  of  words,  but  leaves  its  body, 
the  verse,  to  be  entombed,  without  hope  of  resurrec 
tion,  in  a  mass  of  them.  Cowley  is  generally  in 
stanced  as  a  wonder  of  precocity.  But  his  early  in 
sipidities  show  only  a  capacity  for  rhyming  and  for 
the  metrical  arrangement  of  certain  conventional 
combinations  of  words,  a  capacity  wholly  dependent 
on  a  delicate  physical  organization,  and  an  unhappy 


Life   of   Poe  19 

memory.  An  early  poem  is  only  remarkable  when 
it  displays  an  effort  of  reason,  and  the  rudest  verses 
in  which  we  can  trace  some  conception  of  the  ends 
of  poetry,  are  worth  all  the  miracles  of  smooth 
juvenile  versification.  A  school-boy,  one  would  say, 
might  acquire  the  regular  see-saw  of  Pope  merely  by 
an  association  with  the  motion  of  the  play-ground 
tilt. 

Mr.  Poe's  early  productions  show  that  he  could 
see  through  the  verse  to  the  spirit  beneath,  and  that 
he  already  had  a  feeling  that  all  the  life  and  grace  of 
the  one  must  depend  on  and  be  modulated  by  the 
will  of  the  other.  We  call  them  the  most  remark 
able  boyish  poems  that  we  have  ever  read.  We 
know  of  none  that  can  compare  with  them  for  ma 
turity  of  purpose,  and  a  nice  understanding  of  the 
effects  of  language  and  metre.  Such  pieces  are  only 
valuable  when  they  display  what  we  can  only  ex 
press  by  the  contradictory  phrase  of  innate  experi 
ence.  We  copy  one  of  the  shorter  poems,  written 
when  the  author  was  only  fourteen.  There  is  a  lit 
tle  dimness  in  the  filling  up,  but  the  grace  and  sym 
metry  of  the  outline  are  such  as  few  poets  ever  at 
tain.  There  is  a  smack  of  ambrosia  about  it. 

TO  HELEN 
Helen,  thy  beauty  is  to  me 

Like  those  Nicean  barks  of  yore, 
That  gently,  o'er  a  perfumed  sea, 

The  weary,  way-worn  wanderer  bore 
To  his  own  native  shore. 

On  desperate  seas  long  wont  to  roam, 
Thy  hyacinth  hair,  thy  classic  face, 

Thy  Naiad  airs  have  brought  me  home 
To  the  glory  that  was  Greece 

And  the  grandeur  that  was  Rome. 


20  Life    of    Poe 

Lo!  in  yon  brilliant  window-niche 
How  statue-like  I  see  thee  stand! 

The  agate  lamp  within  thy  hand, 
Ah!  Psyche,  from  the  regions  which 

Are  Holy  Land ! 

It  is  the  tendency  of  the  young  poet  that  impresses 
us.  Here  is  no  "withering  scorn,"  no  heart 
"blighted"  ere  it  has  safely  got  into  its  teens,  none 
of  the  drawing-room  sansculottism  which  Byron  had 
brought  into  vogue.  All  is  limpid  and  serene,  with 
a  pleasant  dash  of  the  Greek  Helicon  in  it.  The 
melody  of  the  whole,  too,  is  remarkable.  It  is  not 
of  that  kind  which  can  be  demonstrated  artihmeti- 
cally  upon  the  tips  of  the  ringers.  It  is  of  that 
finer  sort  which  the  inner  ear  alone  can  estimate. 
It  seems  simple,  like  a  Greek  column,  because  of  its 
perfection.  In  a  poem  named  "Ligeia,"  under 
which  title  he  intended  to  personify  the  music  of 
nature,  our  boy-poet  gives  us  the  following  exquis 
ite  picture: 

Ligeia!  Ligeia! 
My  beautiful  one, 

Whose  harshest  idea 
Will  to  melody  run, 
Say,  is  it  thy  will, 
On  the  breezes  to  toss, 
Or,  capriciously  still, 
Like  the  lone  albatross, 
Incumbent  on  night, 
As  she  on  the  air, 

To  keep  watch  with  delight 
On  the  harmony  there? 

John  Neal,  himself  a  man  of  genius,  and  whose 
lyre  has  been  too  long  capriciously  silent,  appreci 
ated  the  high  merit  of  these  and  similar  passages, 
and  drew  a  proud  horoscope  for  their  author. 


Life    of    Poe  21 

Mr.  Poe  had  that  indescribable  something  which 
men  have  agreed  to  call  genius.  No  man  could  ever 
tell  us  precisely  what  it  is,  and  yet  there  is  none  who 
is  not  inevitably  aware  of  its  presence  and  its  power. 
Let  talent  writhe  and  contort  itself  as  it  may,  it  has 
no  such  magnetism.  Larger  of  bone  and  sinew  it 
may  be,  but  the  wings  are  wanting.  Talent  sticks 
fast  to  earth,  and  its  most  perfect  works  have  still 
one  foot  of  clay.  Genius  claims  kindred  with  the 
very  workings  of  Nature  herself,  so  that  a  sunset 
shall  seem  like  a  quotation  from  Dante,  and  if 
Shakespeare  be  read  in  the  very  presence  of  the  sea 
itself,  his  verses  shall  but  seem  nobler  for  the  sub 
lime  criticism  of  ocean.  Talent  may  make  friends 
for  itself,  but  only  genius  can  give  to  its  creations 
the  divine  power  of  winning  love  and  veneration. 
Enthusiasm  cannot  cling  to  what  itself  is  unenthu- 
siastic,  nor  will  he  ever  have  disciples  who  has  not 
himself  impulsive  zeal  enough  to  be  a  disciple. 
Great  wits  are  allied  to  madness  only  inasmuch  as 
they  are  possessed  and  carried  away  by  their  demon, 
while  talent  keeps  him,  as  Paracelsus  did,  securely 
prisoned  in  the  pommel  of  his  sword.  To  the  eye  of 
genius,  the  veil  of  the  spiritual  world  is  ever  rent 
asunder,  that  it  may  perceive  the  ministers  of  good 
and  evil  who  throng  continually  around  it.  No  man 
of  mere  talent  ever  flung  his  inkstand  at  the  devil. 

When  we  say  that  Mr.  Poe  had  genius,  we  do  not 
mean  to  say  that  he  has  produced  evidence  of  the 
highest.  But  to  say  that  he  possesses  it  at  all  is  to 
say  that  he  needs  only  zeal,  industry,  and  a  rever 
ence  for  the  trust  reposed  in  him,  to  achieve  the 
proudest  triumphs  and  the  greenest  laurels.  If  we 
may  believe  the  Longinuses  and  Aristotles  of  our 


22  Life    of    Poe 

newspapers,  we  have  quite  too  many  geniuses  of  the 
loftiest  order  to  render  a  place  among  them  at  all 
desirable,  whether  for  its  hardness  of  attainment  or 
its  seclusion.  The  highest  peak  of  our  Parnassus  is, 
according  ito  these  gentlemen,  by  far  the  most 
thickly  settled  portion  of  the  country,  a  circumstance 
which  must  make  it  an  uncomfortable  residence  for 
individuals  of  a  poetical  temperament,  if  love  of 
solitude  be,  as  immemorial  tradition  asserts,  a  neces 
sary  part  of  their  idiosyncrasy. 

Mr.  Poe  has  two  of  the  prime  qualities  of  genius, 
a  faculty  of  vigorous  yet  minute  analysis,  and  a 
wonderful  fecundity  of  imagination.  The  first  of 
these  faculties  is  as  needful  to  the  artist  in  words, 
as  a  knowledge  of  anatomy  is  to  the  artist  in  colors 
or  in  stone.  This  enables  him  to  conceive  truly,  to 
maintain  a  proper  relation  of  parts,  and  to  draw  a 
correct  outline,  while  the  second  groups,  fills  up  and 
colors.  Both  of  these  Mr.  Poe  has  displayed  with 
singular  distinctness  in  his  prose  works,  the  last 
predominating  in  his  earlier  tales,  and  the  first  in  his 
later  ones.  In  judging  of  the  merit  of  an  author, 
and  assigning  him  his  niche  among  our  household 
gods,  we  have  a  right  to  regard  him  from  our  own 
point  of  view,  and  to  measure  him  by  our  own  stand 
ard.  But,  in  estimating  the  amount  of  power  dis 
played  in  his  works,  we  must  be  governed  by  his 
own  design,  and  placing  them  by  the  side  of  his  own 
ideal,  find  how  much  is  wanting.  We  differ  from 
Mr.  Poe  in  his  opinions  of  the  objects  of  art.  He 
esteems  that  object  to  be  the  creation  of  Beauty,  and 
perhaps  it  is  only  in  the  definition  of  that  word  that 
we  disagree  with  him.  But  in  what  we  shall  say  of 
his  writings,  we  shall  take  his  own  standard  as  our 


Life   of   Poe  23 

guide.  The  temple  of  the  god  of  song1  is  equally 
accessible  from  every  side,  and  there  is  room 
enough  in  it  for  all  who  bring  offerings,  or  seek  in 
oracle. 

In  his  tales,  Mr.  Poe  has  chosen  to  exhibit  his 
power  chiefly  in  that  dim  region  which  stretches 
from  the  very  utmost  limits  of  the  probable  into  the 
weird  confines  of  superstition  and  unreality.  He 
combines  in  a  very  remarkable  manner  two  faculties 
which  are  seldom  found  united;  a  power  of  influ 
encing  the  mind  of  the  reader  by  the  impalpable 
shadows  of  mystery,  and  a  minuteness  of  detail 
which  does  not  leave  a  pin  or  a  button  unnoticed. 
Both  are,  in  truth,  the  natural  results  of  the  pre 
dominating  quality  of  his  mind,  to  which  we  have 
before  alluded,  analysis.  It  is  this  which  distin 
guishes  the  artist.  His  mind  at  once  reaches  for 
ward  to  the  effect  to  be  produced.  Having  resolved 
to  bring  about  certain  emotions  in  the  reader,  he 
makes  all  subordinate  parts  tend  strictly  to  the  com 
mon  centre.  Even  his  mystery  is  mathematical  to 
his  own  mind.  To  him  X  is  a  known  quantity  all 
along.  In  any  picture  that  he  paints  he  understands 
the  chemical  properties  of  all  his  colors.  However 
vague  some  of  his  figures  may  seem,  however  form 
less  the  shadows,  to  him  the  outline  is  as  clear  and 
distinct  as  that  of  a  geometrical  diagram.  For  this 
reason  Mr.  Poe  has  no  sympathy  with  Mysticism. 
The  Mystic  dwells  in  the  mystery,  is  enveloped 
with  it ;  it  colors  all  his  thoughts ;  it  affects  his  optic 
nerve  especially,  and  the  commonest  things  get  a 
rainbow  edging  from  it.  Mr.  Poe,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  a  spectator  ab  extra.  He  analyzes,  he  dis 
sects,  he  watches 


24  Life   of    Poe 

"with  an  eye  serene, 
The  very  pulse  of  the  machine," 

for  such  it  practically  is  to  him,  with  wheels  and 
cogs  and  piston-rods,  all  working  to  produce  a  cer 
tain  end. 

This  analyzing  tendency  of  his  mind  balances  the 
|)oetical,  and  by  giving  him  the  patience  to  be  mi- 
mute,  enables  him  to  throw  a  wonderful  reality  into 
his  most  unreal  fancies.  A  monomania  he  paints 
with  great  power.  He  loves  to  dissect  one  of  these 
cancers  of  the  mind,  and  to  trace  all  the  subtle  rami 
fications  of  its  roots.  In  raising  images  of  horror, 
also,  he  has  strange  success,  conveying  to  us  some 
times  by  a  dusky  hint  some  terrible  doubt  which  is 
the  secret  of  all  horror.  He  leaves  to  imagination 
the 'task  of  finishing  the  picture,  a  task  to  which  only 
she  is  competent. 

"For  much  imaginary  work  was  there; 
Conceit  deceitful,  so  compact,  so  kind, 
That  for  Achilles'  image  stood  his  spear 
Grasped  in  an  armed  hand ;  himself  behind 
Was  left  unseen,  save  to  the  eye  of  mind." 

Besides  the  merit  of  conception,  Mr.  Poe's  writ 
ings  have  also  that  of  form. 

His  style  is  highly  finished,  graceful  and  truly 
classical.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  living  author 
who  had  displayed  such  varied  powers.  As  an  ex 
ample  of  his  style  we  would  refer  to  one  of  his 
tales,  "The  House  of  Usher,"  in  the  first  volume  of 
his  "Tales  of  the  Grotesque  and  Arabesque."  It  has 
a  singular  charm  for  us,  and  we  think  that  no  one 
could  read  it  without  being  strongly  moved  by  its 


Life   of    Poe  25 

serene  and  sombre  beauty.  Had  its  author  written 
nothing  else,  it  would  alone  have  been  enough  to 
stamp  him  as  a  man  of  genius,  and  the  master  of  a 
classic  style.  In  this  tale  occurs,  perhaps,  the  most 
beautiful  of  his  poems. 

The  great  masters  of  imagination  have  seldom  re 
sorted  to  the  vague  and  the  unreal  as  sources  of  ef 
fect.  They  have  not  used  dread  and  horror  alone, 
but  only  in  combination  with  other  qualities,  as 
means  of  subjugating  the  fancies  of  their  readers. 
The  loftiest  muse  has  ever  a  household  and  fireside 
charm  about  her.  Mr.  Poe's  secret  lies  mainly  in 
the  skill  with  which  he  has  employed  the  strange 
fascination  of  mystery  and  terror.  In  this  his  suc 
cess  is  so  great  and  striking  as  to  deserve  the  name 
of  art,  not  artifice.  We  cannot  call  his  materials  the 
noblest  or  purest,  but  we  must  concede  to  him  the 
highest  merit  of  construction. 

As  a  critic,  w  Mr.  Poe  was  aesthetically  deficient. 
Unerring  in  Ins  analysis  of  dictions,  metres  and 
plots,  he  seemed  wanting  in  the  faculty  of  perceiv 
ing  the  profounder  ethics  of  art.  His  criticisms 
are,  however,  distinguished  for  scientific  precision 
and  coherence  of  logic.  They  have  the  exactness, 
and  at  the  same  time,  the  coldness  of  mathematical 
demonstrations.  Yet  they  stand  in  strikingly  re 
freshing  contrast  with  the  vague  generalisms  and 
sharp  personalities  of  the  day.  If  deficient  in 
warmth,  they  are  also  without  the  heat  of  partisan 
ship.  They  are  especially  valuable  as  illustrating 
the  great  truth,  too  generally  overlooked,  that 
analytic  power  is  a  subordinate  quality  of  the 
critic. 

On  the  whole,  it  may  be  considered  certain  that 

I-Poe-2 


26  Life    of    Poe 

Mr.  Poe  has  attained  an  individual  eminence  in  our 
literature  which  he  will  keep.  He  has  given  proof 
of  power  and  originality.  He  has  done  that  which 
could  only  be  done  once  with  success  or  safety,  and 
the  imitation  or  repetition  of  which  would  produce 
weariness. 


DEATH  OF  EDGAR  A.  POE 

BY  N.  P.  WILLIS 

THE  ancient  fable  of  two  antagonistic  spirits  im 
prisoned  in  one  body,  equally  powerful  and  having 
the  complete  mastery  by  turns — of  one  man,  that  is 
to  say,  inhabited  by  both  a  devil  and  an  angel — 
seems  to  have  been  realized,  if  all  we  hear  is  true,  in 
the  character  of  the  extraordinary  man  whose  name 
we  have  written  above.  Our  own  impression  of  the 
nature  of  Edgar  A.  Poe,  differs  in  some  important 
degree,  however,  from  that  which  has  been  gen 
erally  conveyed  in  the  notices  of  his  death.  Let  us, 
before  telling  what  we  personally  know  of  him,  copy 
a  graphic  and  highly  finished  portraiture,  from  the 
pen  of  Dr.  Rufus  W.  Griswold,  which  appeared  in 
a  recent  number  of  the  "Tribune  :"* 

"Edgar  Allen  Poe  is  dead.  He  died  in  Baltimore 
on  Sunday,  October  7th.  This  announcement  will 
startle  many,  but  few  will  be  grieved  by  it.  The 
poet  was  known,  personally  or  by  reputation,  in  all 
this  country ;  he  had  readers  in  England  and  in  sev 
eral  of  the  states  of  Continental  Europe ;  but  he  had 
few  or  no  friends ;  and  the  regrets  for  his  death  will 
be  suggested  principally  by  the  consideration  that  in 
him  literary  art  has  lost  one  of  its  most  brilliant  but 
erratic  stars. 


These  remarks  were  published  by  Mr.  Willis  in  the  "Home 
Journal/'  on  the  Saturday  following  Mr.  Poe's  death. 

O7) 


28  Death   of    Poe 

"His  conversation  was  at  times  almost  supra- 
mortal  in  its  eloquence.  His  voice  was  modulated 
with  astonishing  skill,  and  his  large  and  variably 
expressive  eyes  looked  repose  or  shot  fiery  tumult 
into  theirs  who  listened,  while  his  own  face  glowed, 
or  was  changeless  in  pallor,  as  his  imagination  quick 
ened  his  blood  or  drew  it  back  frozen  to  his  heart. 
His  imagery  was  from  the  worlds  which  no  mortals 
can  see  but  with  the  vision  of  genius.  Suddenly 
starting  from  a  proposition,  exactly  and  sharply  de 
fined,  in  terms  of  utmost  simplicity  and  clearness,  he 
rejected  the  forms  of  customary  logic,  and  by  a 
crystalline  process  of  accretion,  built  up  his  ocular 
demonstrations  in  forms  of  gloomiest  and  ghastli 
est  grandeur,  or  in  those  of  the  most  airy  and  deli 
cious  beauty,  so  minutely  and  distinctly,  yet  so  rap 
idly,  that  the  attention  which  was  yielded  to  him  was 
chained  till  it  stood  among  his  wonderful  creations, 
till  he  himself  dissolved  the  spell,  and  brought  his 
hearers  back  to  common  and  base  existence,  by  vul 
gar  fancies  or  exhibitions  of  the  ignoblest  passion. 

"He  was  at  all  times  a  dreamer — dwelling  in  ideal 
realms — in  heaven  or  hell — peopled  with  the  creat 
ures  and  the  accidents  of  his  brain.  He  walked  the 
streets,  in  madness  or  melancholy,  with  lips  moving 
in  indistinct  curses,  or  with  eyes  upturned  in  passion 
ate  prayer  (never  for  himself,  for  he  felt,  or  pro 
fessed  to  feel,  that  he  was  already  damned,  but)  for 
their  happiness  who  at  the  moment  were  objects  of 
his  idolatry;  or  with  his  glances  introverted  to  a 
heart  gnawed  with  anguish,  and  with  a  face 
shrouded  in  gloom,  he  would  brave  the  wildest 
storms,  and  all  night,  with  drenched  garments  and 
arms  beating  the  winds  and  rains,  would  speak  as  if 


Death    of    Poe  29 

the  spirits  that  at  such  times  only  could  be  evoked 
by  him  from  the  Aidenn,  close  by  whose  portals  his 
disturbed  soul  sought  to  forget  the  ills  to  which  his 
constitution  subjected  him — close  by  the  Aidenn 
where  were  those  he  loved — the  Aidenn  which  he 
might  never  see,  but  in  fitful  glimpses,  as  its  gates 
opened  to  receive  the  less  fiery  and  more  happy  na 
tures  whose  destiny  to  sin  did  not  involve  the  doom 
of  death. 

"He  seemed,  except  when  some  fitful  pursuit  sub 
jugated  his  will  and  engrossed  his  faculties,  always 
to  bear  the  memory  of  some  controlling  sorrow. 
The  remarkable  poem  of  'The  Raven'  was  proba 
bly  much  more  nearly  than  has  been  supposed,  even 
by  those  who  were  very  intimate  with  him,  a  re 
flection  and  an  echo  of  his  own  history.  He  was 
that  bird's 

"'unhappy  master  whom  unmerciful  Disaster 
Followed  fast  and  followed  faster  till  his  songs  one  burden 

bore — 

Till  the  dirges  of  his  Hope  that  melancholy  burden  bore 
Of  'Never—never  more/ 

"Every  genuine  author  in  a  greater  or  less  de 
gree  leaves  in  his  works,  whatever  their  design, 
traces  of  his  personal  character :  elements  of  his  im 
mortal  being,  in  which  the  individual  survives  the 
person.  While  we  read  the  pages  of  the  'Fall  of 
the  House  of  Usher/  or  of  'Mesmeric  Revelations/ 
we  see  in  the  solemn  and  stately  gloom  which  in 
vests  one,  and  in  the  subtle  metaphysical  analysis  of 
both,  indications  of  the  idiosyncrasies  of  what  was 
most  remarkable  and  peculiar  in  the  author's  intel 
lectual  nature.  But  we  see  here  only  the  better 
phases  of  his  nature,  only  the  symbols  of  his  juster 


30  Death    of    Poe 

action,  for  his  harsh  experience  had  deprived  him  of 
all  faith  in  man  or  woman.  He  had  made  up  his 
mind  upon  the  numberless  complexities  of  the  so 
cial  world,  and  the  whole  system  with  him  was  an 
imposture.  This  conviction  gave  a  direction  to  his 
shrewd  and  naturally  unamiable  character.  Still, 
though  he  regarded  society  as  composed  altogether 
of  villains,  the  sharpness  of  his  intellect  was  not  of 
that  kind  which  enabled  him  to  cope  with  villany, 
while  it  continually  caused  him  by  overshots  to  fail 
of  the  success  of  honesty.  He  was  in  many  respects 
like  Francis  Vivian  in  Bulwer's  novel  of  The  Cax- 
tons.'  Passion,  in  him,  comprehended  many  of  the 
worst  emotions  which  militate  against  human  hap 
piness.  You  could  not  contradict  him,  but  you 
raised  quick  choler;  you  could  not  speak  of  wealth, 
but  his  cheek  paled  with  gnawing  envy.  The  aston 
ishing  natural  advantages  of  this  poor  boy — his 
beauty,  his  readiness,  the  daring  spirit  that  breathed 
around  him  like  a  fiery  atmosphere — had  raised  his 
constitutional  self-confidence  into  an  arrogance  that 
turned  his  very  claims  to  admiration  into  prejudices 
against  him.  Irascible,  envious — bad  enough,  but 
not  the  worst,  for  these  salient  angles  were  all  var 
nished  over  with  a  cold,  repellant  cynicism,  his  pas 
sions  vented  themselves  in  sneers.  There  seemed  to 
him  no  moral  susceptibility ;  and,  what  was  more  re 
markable  in  a  proud  nature,  little  or  nothing  of  the 
true  point  of  honor.  He  had,  to  a  morbid  excess, 
that  desire  to  rise  which  is  vulgarly  called  ambition, 
but  no  wish  for  the  esteem  or  the  love  of  his  species ; 
only  the  hard  wish  to  succeed — not  shine,  not  serve 
— succeed,  that  he  might  have  the  right  to  despise  a 
world  which  galled  his  self-conceit. 


Death    of    Poe  31 

"We  have  suggested  the  influence  of  his  aims  and 
vicissitudes  upon  his  literature.  It  was  more  con 
spicuous  in  his  later  than  in  his  earlier  writings. 
Nearly  all  that  he  wrote  in  the  last  two  or  three 
years — including  much  of  his  best  poetry — was  in 
some  sense  biographical;  in  draperies  of  his  imagi 
nation,  those  who  had  taken  the  trouble  to  trace  his 
steps,  could  perceive,  but  slightly  concealed,  the  fig 
ure  of  himself." 

Apropos  of  the  disparaging  portion  of  the  above 
well-written  sketch,  let  us  truthfully  say: 

Some  four  or  five  years  since,  when  editing  a 
daily  paper  in  this  city,  Mr.  Poe  was  employed  by 
us,  for  several  months,  as  critic  and  sub-editor.  This 
was  our  first  personal  acquaintance  with  him.  He 
resided  with  his  wife  and  mother  at  Fordham,  a 
few  miles  out  of  town,  but  was  at  his  desk  in  the  of 
fice,  from  nine  in  the  morning  till  the  evening  paper 
went  to  press.  With  the  highest  admiration  for  his 
genius,  and  a  willingness  to  let  it  atone  for  more 
than  ordinary  irregularity,  we  were  led  by  common 
report  to  expect  a  very  capricious  attention  to  his 
duties,  and  occasionally  a  scene  of  violence  and  diffi 
culty.  Time  went  on,  however,  and  he  was  invari 
ably  punctual  and  industrious.  With  his  pale,  beau 
tiful,  and  intellectual  face,  as  a  reminder  of  what 
genius  was  in  him,  it  was  impossible,  of  course,  not 
to  treat  him  always  with  deferential  courtesy,  and, 
to  our  occasional  request  that  he  would  not  probe 
too  deep  in  a  criticism,  or  that  he  would  erase  a  pas 
sage  colored  too  highly  with  his  resentments  against 
society  and  mankind,  he  readily  and  courteously  as 
sented — far  more  yielding  than  most  men,  we 


32  Death    of    Poe 

thought,  on  points  so  excusably  sensitive.  With  a 
prospect  of  taking  the  lead  in  another  periodical,  he, 
at  last,  voluntarily  gave  up  his  employment  with  us, 
and,  through  all  this  considerable  period,  we  had 
seen  but  one  presentment  of  the  man — a  quiet,  pa 
tient,  industrious,  and  most  gentlemanly  person, 
commanding  the  utmost  respect  and  good  feeling 
by  his  unvarying  deportment  and  ability. 

Residing  as  he  did  in  the  country,  we  never  met 
Mr.  Poe  in  hours  of  leisure ;  but  he  frequently  called 
on  us  afterward  at  our  place  of  business,  and  we  met 
him  often  in  the  street — invariably  the  same  sad- 
mannered,  winning  and  refined  gentleman,  such  as 
we  had  always  known  him.  It  was  by  rumor  only, 
up  to  the  day  of  his  death,  that  we  knew  of  any  other 
development  of  manner  or  character.  We  heard, 
from  one  who  knew  him  well  (what  should  be  stated 
in  all  mention  of  his  lamentable  irregularities),  that, 
with  a  single  glass  of  wine,  his  whole  nature  was 
reversed,  the  demon  became  uppermost,  and,  though 
none  of  the  usual  signs  of  intoxication  were  visible, 
his  will  was  palpably  insane.  Possessing  his  reason 
ing  faculties  in  excited  activity,  at  such  times,  and 
seeking  his  acquaintances  with  his  wonted  look  and 
memory,  he  easily  seemed  personating  only  another 
phase  of  his  natural  character,  and  was  accused,  ac 
cordingly,  of  insulting  arrogance  and  bad-hearted- 
ness.  In  this  reversed  character,  we  repeat,  it  was 
never  our  chance  to  see  him.  We  know  it  from 
hearsay,  and  we  mention  it  in  connection  with  this 
sad  infirmity  of  physical  constitution ;  which  puts  it 
upon  very  nearly  the  ground  of  a  temporary  and  al 
most  irresponsible  insanity. 

The  arrogance,  vanity,  and  depravity  of  heart,  of 


Death    of    Poe  33 

which  Mr.  Poe  was  generally  accused,  seem  to  us 
referable  altogether  to  this  reversed  phase  of  his 
character.  Under  that  degree  of  intoxication  which 
only  acted  upon  him  by  demonizing  his  sense  of 
truth  and  right,  he  doubtless  said  and  did  much  that 
was  wholly  irreconcilable  with  his  better  nature;  but, 
when  himself,  and  as  we  knew  him  only,  his  mod 
esty  and  unaffected  humility,  as  to  his  own  deserv- 
ings,  were  a  constant  charm  to  his  character.  His 
letters,  of  which  the  constant  application  for  auto 
graphs  has  taken  from  us,  we  are  sorry  to  confess, 
the  greater  portion,  exhibited  this  quality  very 
strongly.  In  one  of  the  carelessly  written  notes  of 
which  we  chance  still  to  retain  possession,  for  in 
stance,  he  speaks  of  "The  Raven" — that  extraordi 
nary  poem  which  electrified  the  world  of  imaginative 
readers,  and  has  become  the  type  of  a  school  of 
poetry  of  its  own — and,  in  evident  earnest,  attributes 
its  success  to  the  few  words  of  commendation  with 
which  we  had  prefaced  it  in  this  paper.  It  will 
throw  light  on  his  sane  character  to  give  a  literal 
copy  of  the  note : 

"FORDHAM,  April  20,  1849. 

"My  DEAR  WILLIS — The  poem  which  I  inclose, 
and  which  I  am  so  vain  as  to  hope  you  will  like,  in 
some  respects,  has  been  just  published  in  a  paper  for 
which  sheer  necessity  compels  me  to  write,  now  and 
then.  It  pays  well  as  times  go — but  unquestionably 
it  ought  to  pay  ten  prices;  for  whatever  I  send  it  I 
feel  I  am  consigning  to  the  tomb  of  the  Capulets. 
The  verses  accompanying  this,  may  I  beg  you  to 
take  out  of  the  tomb,  and  bring  them  to  light  in  the 
'Home  Journal  ?'  If  you  can  oblige  me  so  far  as  to 
copy  them,  I  do  not  think  it  will  be  necessary  to 


34  Death    of    Poe 

say  'From  the  -    — ,'  that  would  be  too  bad;  and, 
perhaps,  'From  a  late  -     -  paper/  would  do. 

"I  have  not  forgotten  how  a  'good  word  in  sea 
son'  from  you  made  The  Raven/  and  made  'Ula- 
lume'  (which  by-the-way,  people  have  done  me  the 
honor  of  attributing  to  you),  therefore,  I  would  ask 
you  (if  I  dared)  to  say  something  of  these  lines 
if  they  please  you. 

"Truly  yours  ever, 

"EDGAR  A.  POE/' 

In  double  proof  of  his  earnest  disposition  to  do 
the  best  for  himself,  and  of  the  trustful  and  grateful 
nature  which  has  been  denied  him,  we  give  another 
of  the  only  three  of  his  notes  which  we  chance  to 
retain : 

"FORDHAM,  January  22,  1848. 

"My  DEAR  MR.  WILLIS — I  am  about  to  make 
an  effort  at  re-establishing  myself  in  the  literary 
world,  and  feel  that  I  may  depend  upon  your  aid. 

"My  general  aim  is  to  start  a  Magazine,  to  be 
called  The  Stylus/  but  it  would  be  useless  to  me, 
even  when  established,  if  not  entirely  out  of  the 
control  of  a  publisher.  I  mean,  therefore,  to  get  up 
a  journal  which  shall  be  my  own  at  all  points.  With 
this  end  in  view,  I  must  get  a  list  of  at  least  five 
hundred  subscribers  to  begin  with ;  nearly  two  hun 
dred  I  have  already.  I  propose,  however,  to  go 
South  and  West,  among  my  personal  and  literary 
friends — old  college  and  West  Point  acquaintances 
— and  see  what  I  can  do.  In  order  to  get  the  means 
of  taking  the  first  step,  I  propose  to  lecture  at  the 
Society  Library,  on  Thursday,  the  3d  of  February, 
and,  that  there  may  be  no  cause  of  squabbling,  my 


Death    of    Poe  35 

subject  shall  not  be  literary  at  all.    I  have  chosen  a 
broad  text:  'The  Universe/ 

"Having  thus  given  you  the  facts  of  the  case,  I 
leave  all  the  rest  to  the  suggestions  of  your  own  tact 
and  generosity.    Gratefully,  most  gratefully, 
"Your  friend  always, 

"EDGAR  A.  POE." 

Brief  and  chance-taken  as  these  letters  are,  we 
think  they  sufficiently  prove  the  existence  of  the  very 
qualities  denied  to  Mr.  Poe — humility,  willingness 
to  persevere,  belief  in  another's  friendship,  and  capa 
bility  of  cordial  and  grateful  friendship!  Such  he 
assuredly  was  when  sane.  Such  only  he  has  invari 
ably  seemed  to  us,  in  all  we  have  happened  person 
ally  to  know  of  him,  through  a  friendship  of  five  or 
six  years.  And  so  much  easier  is  it  to  believe  what 
we  have  seen  and  known,  than  what  we  hear  of 
only,  that  we  remember  him  but  with  admiration 
and  respect ;  these  descriptions  of  him,  when  morally 
insane,  seeming  to  us  like  portraits,  painted  in  sick 
ness,  of  a  man  we  have  only  known  in  health. 

But  there  is  another,  more  touching,  and  far  more 
forcible  evidence  that  there  was  goodness  in  Edgar 
A.  Poe.  To  reveal  it,  we  are  obliged  to  venture 
upon  the  lifting  of  the  veil  which  sacredly  covers 
grief  and  refinement  in  poverty ;  but  we  think  it  may 
be  excused,  if  so  we  can  brighten  the  memory  of  the 
poet,  even  were  there  not  a  more  needed  and  im 
mediate  service  which  it  may  render  to  the  nearest 
link  broken  by  his  death. 

Our  first  knowledge  of  Mr.  Poe's  removal  to  this 
city  was  by  a  call  which  we  received  from  a  lady 
who  introduced  herself  to  us  as  the  mother  of  his 


36  Death   of   Poe 

wife.  She  was  in  search  of  employment  for  him, 
and  she  excused  her  errand  by  mentioning  that  he 
was  ill,  that  her  daughter  was  a  confirmed  invalid, 
and  that  their  circumstances  were  such  as  com 
pelled  her  taking  it  upon  herself.  The  countenance 
of  this  lady,  made  beautiful  and  saintly  with  an  evi 
dently  complete  giving  up  of  her  life  to  privation 
and  sorrowful  tenderness,  her  gentle  and  mournful 
voice  urging  its  plea,  her  long-forgotten  but  habit 
ually  and  unconsciously  refined  manners,  and  her 
appealing  and  yet  appreciative  mention  of  the  claims 
and  abilities  of  her  son,  disclosed  at  once  the  pres 
ence  of  one  of  those  angels  upon  earth  that  women 
in  adversity  can  be.  It  was  a  hard  fate  that  she 
was  watching  over.  Mr.  Poe  wrote  with  fastidious 
difficulty,  and  in  a  style  too  much  above  the  popular 
level  to  be  well  paid.  He  was  always  in  pecuniary 
difficulty,  and,  with  his  sick  wife,  frequently  in  want 
of  the  merest  necessaries  of  life.  Winter  after  win 
ter,  for  years,  the  most  touching  sight  to  us,  in  this 
whole  city,  has  been  that  tireless  minister  to  genius, 
thinly  and  insufficiently  clad,  going  from  office  to 
office  with  a  poem,  or  an  article  on  some  literary 
subject,  to  sell,  sometimes  simply  pleading  in  a 
broken  voice  that  he  was  ill,  and  begging  for  him, 
mentioning  nothing  but  that  "he  was  ill,"  whatever 
might  be  the  reason  for  his  writing  nothing,  and 
never,  amid  all  her  tears  and  recitals  of  distress, 
suffering  one  syllable  to  escape  her  lips  that  could 
convey  a  doubt  of  him,  or  a  complaint,  or  a  lessen 
ing  of  pride  in  his  genius  and  good  intentions.  Her 
daughter  died  a  year  and  a  half  since,  but  she  did 
not  desert  him.  She  continued  his  ministering 
angel — living  with  him,  caring  for  him,  guarding 


Death   of   Poe  37 

him  against  exposure,  and  when  he  was  carried 
away  by  temptation,  amid  grief  and  the  loneliness 
of  feelings  unreplied  to,  and  awoke  from  his  self- 
abandonment  prostrated  in  destitution  and  suffer 
ing,  begging  for  him  still.  If  woman's  devotion, 
born  with  a  first  love,  and  fed  with  human  passion, 
hallow  its  object,  as  it  is  allowed  to  do,  what  does 
not  a  devotion  like  this — pure,  disinterested  and 
holy  as  the  watch  of  an  invisible  spirit — say  for 
him  who  inspired  it? 

We  have  a  letter  before  us,  written  by  this  lady, 
Mrs.  Clemm,  on  the  morning  in  which  she  heard  of 
the  death  of  this  object  of  her  untiring  care.  It  is 
merely  a  request  that  we  would  call  upon  her,  but 
we  will  copy  a  few  of  its  words — sacred  as  its  pri 
vacy  is — to  warrant  the  truth  of  the  picture  we 
have  drawn  above,  and  add  force  to  the  appeal  we 
wish  to  make  for  her : 

"I  have  this  morning  heard  of  the  death  of  my 
darling  Eddie.  ...  Can  you  give  me  any  cir 
cumstances  or  particulars  ?  .  .  .  Oh !  do  not  desert 
your  poor  friend  in  his  bitter  affliction!  .  .  .  Ask 

Mr.  to  come,  as  I  must  deliver  a  message  to 

him  from  my  poor  Eddie.  ...  I  need  not  ask  you 
to  notice  his  death  and  to  speak  well  of  him.  I 
know  you  will.  But  say  what  an  affectionate  son 
he  was  to  me,  his  poor  desolate  mother.  .  .  /' 

To  hedge  round  a  grave  with  respect,  what  choice 
is  there,  between  the  relinquished  wealth  and  hon 
ors  of  the  world,  and  the  story  of  such  a  woman's 
unrewarded  devotion !  Risking  what  we  do,  in  del 
icacy,  by  making  it  public,  we  feel— other  reasons 


38  Death   of   Poe 

aside — that  it  betters  the  world  to  make  known  that 
there  are  such  ministrations  to  its  erring  and  gifted. 
What  we  have  said  will  speak  to  some  hearts.  There 
are  those  who  will  be  glad  to  know  how  the  lamp, 
whose  light  of  poetry  has  beamed  on  their  far-away 
recognition,  was  watched  over  with  care  and  pain, 
that  they  may  send  to  her,  who  is  more  darkened 
than  they  by  its  extinction,  some  token  of  their  sym 
pathy.  She  is  destitute  and  alone.  If  any,  far  or 
near,  will  send  to  us  what  may  aid  and  cheer  her 
through  the  remainder  of  her  life,  we  will  joyfully 
place  it  in  her  hands. 


THE    UNPARALLELED    ADVENTURE    OF 
ONE    HANS    PFAALL 

With  a   heart  of  furious   fancies, 

Whereof  I  am  commander, 
With  a  burning  spear  and  a  horse  of  air, 

To  the  wilderness  I  wander. 

— Tom  o'  Bedlam's  Song 

BY  late  accounts  from  Rotterdam,  that  city  seems 
to  be  in  a  high  state  of  philosophical  excite 
ment.  Indeed,  phenomena  have  there  occurred  of 
a  nature  so  completely  unexpected — so  entirely  novel 
— so  utterly  at  variance  with  preconceived  opinions 
— as  to  leave  no  doubt  on  my  mind  that  long  ere 
this  all  Europe  is  in  an  uproar,  all  physics  in  a  fer 
ment,  all  reason  and  astronomy  together  by  the 
ears. 

It  appears  that  on  the day  of (I  am 

not  positive  about  the  date),  a  vast  crowd  of  peo 
ple,  for  purposes  not  specifically  mentioned,  were 
assembled  in  the  great  square  of  the  Exchange  in 
the  well-conditioned  city  of  Rotterdam.  The  day 
was  warm — unusually  so  for  the  season — there  was 
hardly  a  breath  of  air  stirring;  and  the  multitude 
were  in  no  bad  humor  at  being  now  and  then  be 
sprinkled  with  friendly  showers  of  momentary  dura 
tion  that  fell  from  large  white  masses  of  cloud  pro 
fusely  distributed  about  the  blue  vault  of  the  firma- 

(39) 


40        Works    of    Edgar   Allan    Poe 

ment.  Nevertheless,  about  noon,  a  slight  but  re 
markable  agitation  became  apparent  in  the  assembly : 
the  clattering  of  ten  thousand  tongues  succeeded; 
and,  in  an  instant  afterward,  ten  thousand  faces 
were  upturned  toward  the  heavens,  ten  thousand 
pipes  descended  simultaneously  from  the  corners  of 
ten  thousand  mouths,  and  a  shout,  which  could  be 
compared  to  nothing  but  the  roaring  of  Niagara, 
resounded  long,  loudly,  and  furiously,  through  all 
the  city  and  through  all  the  environs  of  Rotterdam. 
The  origin  of  this  hubbub  soon  became  sufficiently 
evident.  From  behind  the  huge  bulk  of  one  of 
those  sharply  defined  masses  of  cloud  already  men 
tioned,  was  seen  slowly  to  emerge  into  an  open  area 
of  blue  space,  a  queer,  heterogeneous,  but  appar 
ently  solid  substance,  so  oddly  shaped,  so  whimsi 
cally  put  together,  as  not  to  be  in  any  manner  com 
prehended,  and  never  to  be  sufficiently  admired,  by 
the  host  of  sturdy  burghers  who  stood  open-mouthed 
below.  What  could  it  be?  In  the  name  of  all 
the  devils  in  Rotterdam,  what  could  it  possibly  por 
tend  ?  No  one  knew ;  no  one  could  imagine ;  no  one 
— not  even  the  burgomaster  Mynheer  Superbus  Von 
Underduk — had  the  slightest  clew  by  which  to  un 
ravel  the  mystery;  so,  as  nothing  more  reasonable 
could  be  done,  every  one  to  a  man  replaced  his  pipe 
carefully  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  and  maintain 
ing  an  eye  steadily  upon  the  phenomenon,  puffed, 
paused,  waddled  about,  and  grunted  significantly — 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  41 

then  waddled  back,  grunted,  paused,  and  finally — 
puffed  again. 

In  the  meantime,  however,  lower  and  still  lower 
toward  the  goodly  city,  came  the  object  of  so  much 
curiosity,  and  the  cause  of  so  much  smoke.  In  a 
very  few  minutes  it  arrived  near  enough  to  be  ac 
curately  discerned.  It  appeared  to  be — yes !  it  was 
undoubtedly  a  species  of  balloon ;  but  surely  no  such 
balloon  had  ever  been  seen  in  Rotterdam  before. 
For  who,  let  me  ask,  ever  heard  of  a  balloon  manu 
factured  entirely  of  dirty  newspapers?  No  man  in 
Holland  certainly;  yet  here,  under  the  very  noses  of 
the  people,  or  rather  at  some  distance  above  their 
noses,  was  the  identical  thing  in  question,  and  com 
posed,  I  have  it  on  the  best  authority,  of  the  precise 
material  which  no  one  had  ever  before  known  to  be 
used  for  a  similar  purpose.  It  was  an  egregious  in 
sult  to  the  good  sense  of  the  burghers  of  Rotterdam. 
As  to  the  shape  of  the  phenomenon,  it  was  even  still 
more  reprehensible.  Being  little  or  nothing  better 
than  a  huge  fool's-cap  turned  upside  down.  And 
this  similitude  was  regarded  as  by  no  means  less 
ened  when,  upon  nearer  inspection,  the  crowd  saw 
a  large  tassel  depending  from  its  apex,  and,  around 
the  upper  rim  or  base  of  the  cone,  a  circle  of  little 
instruments,  resembling  sheep-bells,  which  kept  up 
a  continual  tinkling  to  the  tune  of  Betty  Martin. 
But  still  worse. — Suspended  by  blue  ribbons  to  the 
end  of  this  fantastic  machine,  there  hung,  by  way  of 


42          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

car,  an  enormous  drab  beaver  hat,  with  a  brim  su 
perlatively  broad,  and  a  hemispherical  crown  with 
a  black  band  and  a  silver  buckle.  It  is,  however, 
somewhat  remarkable  that  many  citizens  of  Rotter 
dam  swore  to  having  seen  the  same  hat  repeatedly 
before;  and  indeed  the  whole  assembly  seemed  to 
regard  it  with  eyes  of  familiarity;  while  the  vrow 
Grettel  Pfaall,  upon  sight  of  it,  uttered  an  exclama 
tion  of  joyful  surprise,  and  declared  it  to  be  the 
identical  hat  of  her  good  man  himself.  Now,  this 
was  a  circumstance  the  more  to  be  observed,  as 
Pfaall,  with  three  companions,  had  actually  disap 
peared  from  Rotterdam  about  five  years  before,  in 
a  very  sudden  and  unaccountable  manner,  and  up 
to  the  date  of  this  narrative  all  attempts  at  obtain 
ing  intelligence  concerning  them  had  failed.  To  be 
sure,  some  bones  which  were  thought  to  be  human, 
mixed  up  with  a  quantity  of  odd-looking  rubbish, 
had  been  lately  discovered  in  a  retired  situation  to 
the  east  of  the  city;  and  some  people  went  so  far 
as  to  imagine  that  in  this  spot  a  foul  murder  had 
been  committed,  and  that  the  sufferers  were  in  all 
probability  Hans  Pfaall  and  his  associates.  But  to 
return. 

The  balloon  (for  such  no  doubt  it  was)  had  now 
descended  to  within  a  hundred  feet  of  the  earth, 
allowing  the  crowd  below  a  sufficiently  distinct  view 
of  the  person  of  its  occupant.  This  was  in  truth  a 
very  singular  somebody.  He  could  not  have  been 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  43 

more  than  two  feet  in  height;  but  this  altitude,  lit 
tle  as  it  was,  would  have  been  sufficient  to  destroy 
his  equilibrium,  and  tilt  him  over  the  edge  of  his 
tiny  car,  but  for  the  intervention  of  a  circular  rim 
reaching  as  high  as  the  breast,  and  rigged  on  to  tHe 
cords  of  the  balloon.  The  body  of  the  little  man 
was  no  more  than  proportionally  broad,  giving  to 
his  entire  figure  a  rotundity  highly  absurd.  His 
feet,  of  course,  could  not  be  seen  at  all.  His  hands 
were  enormously  large.  His  hair  was  gray,  and 
collected  into  a  queue  behind.  His  nose  was  pro 
digiously  long,  crooked,  and  inflammatory;  his  eyes 
full,  brilliant,  and  acute;  his  chin  and  cheeks,  al 
though  wrinkled  with  age,  were  broad,  puffy,  and 
double;  but  of  ears  of  any  kind  there  was  not  a 
semblance  to  be  discovered  upon  any  portion  of  his 
head.  This  odd  little  gentleman  was  dressed  in  a 
loose  surtout  of  sky-blue  satin,  with  tight  breeches 
to  match,  fastened  with  silver  buckles  at  the  knees. 
His  vest  was  of  some  bright  yellow  material;  a 
white  taffety  cap  was  set  jauntily  on  one  side  of  his 
head^|  and,  to  complete  his  equipment,  a  blood-red 
silk  handkerchief  enveloped  his  throat,  and  fell 
down,  in  a  dainty  manner,  upon  his  bosom,  in  a 
fantastic  bow-knot  of  super-eminent  dimensions. 

Having  descended,  as  I  said  before,  to  about  one 
hundred  feet  from  the  surface  of  the  earth,  the  lit 
tle  old  gentleman  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  fit 
of  trepidation,  and  appeared  disinclined  to  make  any 


44          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

nearer  approach  to  terra  firma.  Throwing  out, 
therefore,  a  quantity  of  sand  from  a  canvas  bag, 
which  he  lifted  with  great  difficulty,  he  became  sta 
tionary  in  an  instant.  He  then  proceeded,  in  a  hur 
ried  and  agitated  manner,  to  extract  from  a  side- 
pocket  in  his  surtout  a  large  morocco  pocket-book. 
This  he  poised  suspiciously  in  his  hand,  then  eyed  it 
with  an  air  of  extreme  surprise,  and  was  evidently 
astonished  at  its  weight.  He  at  length  opened  it, 
and  drawing  therefrom  a  huge  letter  sealed  with 
red  sealing-wax  and  tied  carefully  with  red  tape,  let 
it  fall  precisely  at  the  feet  of  the  burgomaster,  Su- 
perbus  Von  Underduk.  His  Excellency  stooped  to 
take  it  up.  But  the  aeronaut,  still  greatly  discom 
posed,  and  having  apparently  no  further  business  to 
detain  him  in  Rotterdam,  began  at  this  moment  to 
make  busy  preparations  for  departure;  and  it  being 
necessary  to  discharge  a  portion  of  ballast  to  enable 
him  to  reascend,  the  half  dozen  bags  which  he  threw 
out,  one  after  another,  without  taking  the  trouble 
to  empty  their  contents,  tumbled,  every  one  of  them, 
most  unfortunately,  upon  the  back  of  the  burgomas 
ter,  and  rolled  him  over  and  over  no  less  than  half 
a  dozen  times,  in  the  face  of  every  individual  in  Rot 
terdam.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  the 
great  Underduk  suffered  this  impertinence  on  the 
part  of  the  little  old  man  to  pass  off  with  impunity. 
It  is  said,  on  the  contrary,  that  during  each  of  his 
half  dozen  circumvolutions  he  emitted  no  less  than 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  45 

half  a  dozen  distinct  and  furious  whiffs  from  his 
pipe,  to  which  he  held  fast  the  whole  time  with  all 
his  might,  and  to  which  he  intends  holding  fast 
(God  willing)  until  the  day  of  his  decease. 

In  the  meantime  the  balloon  arose  like  a  lark, 
and,  soaring  far  away  above  the  city,  at  length 
drifted  quietly  behind  a  cloud  similar  to  that  from 
which  it  had  so  oddly  emerged,  and  was  thus  lost 
forever  to  the  wondering  eyes  of  the  good  citizens  of 
Rotterdam.  All  attention  was  now  directed  to  the 
letter,  the  descent  of  which,  and  the  consequences 
attending  thereupon,  had  proved  so  fatally  subver 
sive  of  both  person  and  personal  dignity  to  his  Ex 
cellency,  Von  Underduk.  That  functionary,  how 
ever,  had  not  failed,  during  his  circumgyratory 
movements,  to  bestow  a  thought  upon  the  impor 
tant  object  of  securing  the  epistle,  which  was  seen, 
upon  inspection,  to  have  fallen  into  the  most  proper 
hands,  being  actually  addressed  to  himself  and  Pro 
fessor  Rubadub,  in  their  official  capacities  of  Presi 
dent  and  Vice-President  of  the  Rotterdam  College 
of  Astronomy.  It  was  accordingly  opened  by  those 
dignitaries  upon  the  spot,  and  found  to  contain  the 
following  extraordinary,  and  indeed  very  serious, 
communication : 

"To  their  Excellencies  Von  Underduk  and  Rubadub, 
President  and  Vice-President  of  the  States9  Col 
lege  of  Astronomers,  in  the  city  of  Rotterdam. 
"Your  Excellencies  may  perhaps  be  able  to  re- 


46          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

member  a  humble  artisan,  by  name  Hans  Pfaall, 
and  by  occupation  a  mender  of  bellows,  who,  with 
three  others,  disappeared  from  Rotterdam,  about  five 
years  ago,  in  a  manner  which  must  have  been  con 
sidered  unaccountable.  If,  however,  it  so  please 
your  Excellencies,  I,  the  writer  of  this  communica 
tion,  am  the  identical  Hans  Pfaall  himself.  It  is 
well  known  to  most  of  my  fellow-citizens,  that  for 
the  period  of  forty  years  I  continued  to  occupy 
the  little  square  brick  building,  at  the  head  of  the 
alley  called  Sauerkraut,  in  which  I  resided  at  the 
time  of  my  disappearance.  My  ancestors  have  also 
resided  therein  time  out  of  mind — they,  as  well  as 
myself,  steadily  following  the  respectable  and  indeed 
lucrative  profession  of  mending  of  bellows:  for,  to 
speak  the  truth,  until  of  late  years,  that  the  heads 
of  all  the  people  have  been  set  agog  with  politics, 
no  better  business  than  my  own  could  an  honest 
citizen  of  Rotterdam  either  desire  or  deserve. 
Credit  was  good,  employment  was  never  wanting, 
and  there  was  no  lack  of  either  money  or  goodwill. 
But,  as  I  was  saying,  we  soon  began  to  feel  the 
effects  of  liberty  and  long  speeches,  and  radicalism, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  People  who  were  for 
merly  the  best  customers  in  the  world,  had  now  not 
a  moment  of  time  to  think  of  us  at  all.  They  had 
as  much  as  they  could  do  to  read  about  the  revolu 
tions,  and  keep  up  with  the  march  of  intellect  and 
the  spirit  of  the  age.  If  a  fire  wanted  fanning,  it 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  47 

could  readily  be  fanned  with  a  newspaper;  and  as 
the  government  grew  weaker,  I  have  no  doubt  that 
leather  and  iron  acquired  durability  in  proportion — 
for,  in  a  very  short  time,  there  was  not  a  pair  of 
bellows  in  all  Rotterdam  that  ever  stood  in  need 
of  a  stitch  or  required  the  assistance  of  a  hammer. 
This  was  a  state  of  things  not  to  be  endured.  I 
soon  grew  as  poor  as  a  rat,  and,  having  a  wife  and 
children  to  provide  for,  my  burdens  at  length  became 
intolerable,  and  I  spent  hour  after  hour  in  reflect 
ing  upon  the  most  convenient  method  of  putting  an 
end  to  my  life.  Duns,  in  the  meantime,  left  me  lit 
tle  leisure  for  contemplation.  My  house  was  lit 
erally  besieged  from  morning  till  night.  There  were 
three  fellows  in  particular  who  worried  me  beyond 
endurance,  keeping  watch  continually  about  my  door, 
and  threatening  me  with  the  law.  Upon  these  three 
I  vowed  the  bitterest  revenge,  if  ever  I  should  be  so 
happy  as  to  get  them  within  my  clutches;  and  I  be 
lieve  nothing  in  the  world  but  the  pleasure  of  this 
anticipation  prevented  me  from  putting  my  plan  of 
suicide  into  immediate  execution,  by  blowing  my 
brains  out  with  a  blunderbuss.  I  thought  it  best, 
however,  to  dissemble  my  wrath,  and  to  treat  them 
with  promises  and  fair  words,  until,  by  some  good 
turn  of  fate,  an  opportunity  of  vengeance  should  be 
afforded  me. 

"One  day,  having  given  them  the  slip,  and  feeling 
more  than  usually  dejected,  I  continued  for  a  long 


48  Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

time  to  wander  about  the  most  obscure  streets  with 
out  object,  until  at  length  I  chanced  to  stumble 
against  the  corner  of  a  bookseller's  stall.  Seeing  a 
chair  close  at  hand,  for  the  use  of  customers,  I 
threw  myself  doggedly  into  it,  and,  hardly  knowing 
why,  opened  the  pages  of  the  first  volume  which  came 
within  my  reach.  It  proved  to  be  a  small  pamphlet 
treatise  on  Speculative  Astronomy,  written  either 
by  Professor  Encke  of  Berlin  or  by  a  Frenchman  of 
somewhat  similar  name.  I  had  some  little  tincture 
of  information  on  matters  of  this  nature,  and  soon 
became  more  and  more  absorbed  in  the  contents  of 
the  book — reading  it  actually  through  twice  before  I 
awoke  to  a  recollection  of  what  was  passing  around 
me.  By  this  time  it  began  to  grow  dark,  and  I  di 
rected  my  steps  toward  home.  But  the  treatise  (in 
conjunction  with  a  discovery  in  pneumatics,  lately 
communicated  to  me  as  an  important  secret,  by  a 
cousin  from  Nantz)  had  made  an  indelible  impres 
sion  on  my  mind,  and,  as  I  sauntered  along  the  dusky 
streets,  I  revolved  carefully  over  in  my  memory  the 
wild  and  sometimes  unintelligible  reasonings  of  the 
writer.  There  are  some  particular  passages  which 
affected  my  imagination  in  an  extraordinary  man 
ner.  The  longer  I  meditated  upon  these,  the  more 
intense  grew  the  interest  which  had  been  excited 
within  me.  The  limited  nature  of  my  education  in 
general,  and  more  especially  my  ignorance  on  sub 
jects  connected  with  natural  philosophy,  so  far  from 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  49 

rendering  me  diffident  of  my  own  ability  to  compre 
hend  what  I  had  read,  or  inducing  me  to  mistrust 
the  many  vague  notions  which  had  arisen  in  conse 
quence,  merely  served  as  a  further  stimulus  to  imagi 
nation;  and  I  was  vain  enough,  or  perhaps  reason 
able  enough,  to  doubt  whether  those  crude  ideas 
which;  arising  in  ill-regulated  minds,  have  all  the 
appearance,  may  not  often  in  effect  possess  all  the 
force,  the  reality,  and  other  inherent  properties,  of 
instinct  or  intuition. 

"It  was  late  when  I  reached  home,  and  I  went 
immediately  to  bed.  My  mind,  however,  was  too 
much  occupied  to  sleep,  and  I  lay  the  whole  night 
buried  in  meditation.  Arising  early  in  the  morn 
ing,  I  repaired  eagerly  to  the  bookseller's  stall,  and 
laid  out  what  little  ready  money  I  possessed,  in  the 
purchase  of  some  volumes  of  "Mechanics  and  Prac 
tical  Astronomy."  Having  arrived  at  home  safely 
with  these,  I  devoted  every  spare  moment  to  their 
perusal,  and  soon  made  such  proficiency  in  studies 
of  this  nature  as  I  thought  sufficient  for  the  execu 
tion  of  a  certain  design  with  which  either  the  Devil 
or  my  better  genius  had  inspired  me.  In  the  inter 
vals  of  this  period,  I  made  every  endeavor  to  concili 
ate  the  three  creditors  who  had  given  me  so  much 
annoyance.  In  this  I  finally  succeeded — partly  by 
selling  enough  of  my  household  furniture  to  satisfy 
a  moiety  of  their  claim,  and  partly  by  a  promise  of 
paying  the  balance  upon  completion  of  a  little  project 


I— Poe— 3 


50         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

which  I  told  them  I  had  in  view,  and  for  assistance 
in  which  I  solicited  their  services.  By  these  means 
(for  they  were  ignorant  men)  I  found  little  difficulty 
in  gaining  them  over  to  my  purpose. 

"Matters  being  thus  arranged,  I  contrived,  by  the 
aid  of  my  wife  and  with  the  greatest  secrecy  and 
caution,  to  dispose  of  what  property  I  had  remain 
ing,  and  to  borrow,  in  small  sums,  under  various 
pretences,  and  without  giving  any  attention  (I  am 
ashamed  to  say)  to  my  future  means  of  repayment, 
no  inconsiderable  quantity  of  ready  money.  With 
the  means  thus  accruing  I  proceeded  to  procure  at 
intervals,  cambric  muslin,  very  fine,  in  pieces  of 
twelve  yards  each;  twine;  a  lot  of  the  varnish  of 
caoutchouc ;  a  large  and  deep  basket  of  wicker-work, 
made  to  order;  and  several  other  articles  necessary 
in  the  construction  and  equipment  of  a  balloon  of 
extraordinary  dimensions.  This  I  directed  my  wife 
to  make  up  as  soon  as  possible,  and  gave  her  all 
requisite  information  as  to  the  particular  method  of 
proceeding.  In  the  meantime  I  worked  up  the 
twine  into  network  of  sufficient  dimensions ;  rigged 
it  with  a  hoop  and  the  necessary  cords;  and  made 
purchase  of  numerous  instruments  and  materials 
for  experiment  in  the  upper  regions  of  the  upper 
atmosphere. 

I  then  took  opportunities  of  conveying  by  night, 
to  a  most  retired  situation  east  of  Rotterdam,  five 
iron-bound  casks,  to  contain  about  fifty  gallons 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  51 

each,  and  one  of  a  larger  size;  six  tin  tubes, 
three  inches  in  diameter,  properly  shaped,  and  ten 
feet  in  length;  a  quantity  of  a  particular  metallic 
substance,  or  semi-metal,  which  I  shall  not  name, 
and  a  dozen  demijohns  of  a  very  common  acid.  The 
gas  to  be  formed  from  these  latter  materials  is  a 
gas  never  yet  generated  by  any  other  person  than 
myself — or  at  least  never  applied  to  any  similar 
purpose.  I  can  only  venture  to  say  here,  that  it  is 
a  constituent  of  azote,  so  long  considered  irreduci 
ble,  and  that  its  density  is  about  37.4  times  less  than 
that  of  hydrogen.  It  is  tasteless,  but  not  odorless; 
burns,  when  pure,  with  a  greenish  flame;  and  is  in 
stantaneously  fatal  to  animal  life.  Its  full  secret  I 
would  make  no  difficulty  in  disclosing,  but  that  it  of 
right  belongs  (as  I  have  before  hinted)  to  a  citizen 
of  Nantz,  in  France,  by  whom  it  was  conditionally 
communicated  to  myself.  The  same  individual  sub 
mitted  to  me,  without  being  at  all  aware  of  my  in 
tentions,  a  method  of  constructing  balloons  from  the 
membrane  of  a  certain  animal,  through  which  sub 
stance  any  escape  of  gas  was  nearly  an  impossibil 
ity.  I  found  it,  however,  altogether  too  expensive, 
and  was  not  sure,  upon  the  whole,  whether  cambric 
muslin,  with  a  coating  of  gum  caoutchouc,  was  not 
equally  as  good.  I  mention  this  circumstance,  be 
cause  I  think  it  probable  that  hereafter  the  individ 
ual  in  question  may  attempt  a  balloon  ascension  with 
the  novel  gas  and  material  I  have  spoken  of  and 


52          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poc 

I  do  not  wish  to  deprive  him  of  the  honor  of  a  very 
singular  invention. 

"On  the  spot  which  I  intended  each  of  the  smaller 
casks  to  occupy  respectively  during  the  inflation  of 
the  balloon,  I  privately  dug  a  small  hole;  the  holes 
forming  in  this  manner  a  circle  twenty-five  feet  in 
diameter.  In  the  centre  of  this  circle,  being  the 
station  designed  for  the  large  cask,  I  also  dug  a 
hole  of  greater  depth.  In  each  of  the  five  smaller 
holes,  I  deposited  a  canister  containing  fifty  pounds, 
and  in  the  larger  one  a  keg  holding  one  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds,  of  cannon  powder.  These — the  keg 
and  canisters — I  connected  in  a  proper  manner  with 
covered  trains ;  and  having  let  into  one  of  the  canis 
ters  the  end  of  about  four  feet  of  slow-match,  I 
covered  up  the  hole,  and  placed  the  cask  over  it,  leav 
ing  the  other  end  of  the  match  protruding  about 
an  inch,  and  barely  visible  beyond  the  cask.  I  then 
filled  up  the  remaining  holes,  and  placed  the  barrels 
over  them  in  their  destined  situation ! 

"Besides  the  articles  above  enumerated,  I  con 
veyed  to  the  depot,  and  there  secreted,  one  of  M. 
Grimm's  improvements  upon  the  apparatus  for  con 
densation  of  the  atmospheric  air.  I  found  this  ma 
chine,  however,  to  require  considerable  alteration 
before  it  could  be  adapted  to  the  purposes  to  which 
I  intended  making  it  applicable.  But,  with  severe 
labor  and  unremitting  perseverance,  I  at  length  met 
with  entire  success  in  all  my  preparations.  My 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  53 

balloon  was  soon  completed.  It  would  contain 
more  than  forty  thousand  cubic  feet  of  gas;  would 
take  me  up  easily,  I  calculated,  with  all  my  imple 
ments,  and,  if  I  managed  rightly,  with  one  hun 
dred  and  seventy-five  pounds  of  ballast  into  the  bar 
gain.  It  had  received  three  coats  of  varnish,  and  I 
found  the  cambric  muslin  to  answer  all  the  purposes 
of  silk  itself,  being  quite  as  strong  and  a  good  deal 
less  expensive. 

"Everything  being  now  ready,  I  exacted  from  my 
wife  an  oath  of  secrecy  in  relation  to  all  my  actions 
from  the  day  of  my  first  visit  to  the  bookseller's 
stall;  and  promising,  on  my  part,  to  return  as  soon 
as  circumstances  would  permit,  I  gave  her  what 
little  money  I  had  left,  and  bade  her  farewell.  In 
deed,  I  had  no  fear  on  her  account.  She  was  what 
people  call  a  notable  woman,  and  could  manage  mat 
ters  in  the  world  without  my  assistance.  I  believe, 
to  tell  the  truth,  she  always  looked  upon  me  as  an 
idle  body — a  mere  make-weight — good  for  nothing 
but  building  castles  in  the  air — and  was  rather  glad 
to  get  rid  of  me.  It  was  a  dark  night  when  I  bade 
her  good-by,  and  taking  with  me,  as  aides-de-camp, 
the  three  creditors  who  had  given  me  so  much 
trouble,  we  carried  the  balloon,  with  the  car  and 
accoutrements,  by  a  roundabout  way,  to  the  station 
where  the  other  articles  were  deposited.  We  there 
found  them  all  unmolested,  and  I  proceeded  imme 
diately  to  business. 


54          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

"It  was  the  first  of  April.  The  night,  as  I  said 
before,  was  dark;  there  was  not  a  star  to  be  seen; 
and  a  drizzling  rain,  falling  at  intervals,  rendered  us 
very  uncomfortable.  But  my  chief  anxiety  was  con 
cerning  the  balloon,  which,  in  spite  of  the  varnish 
with  which  it  was  defended,  began  to  grow  rather 
heavy  with  the  moisture;  the  powder  also  was  li 
able  to  damage.  I  therefore  kept  my  three  duns 
working  with  great  diligence,  pounding  down  ice 
around  the  central  cask,  and  stirring  the  acid  in  the 
others.  They  did  not  cease,  however,  importuning 
me  with  questions  as  to  what  I  intended  to  do  with 
all  this  apparatus,  and  expressed  much  dissatisfac 
tion  at  the  terrible  labor  I  made  them  undergo. 
They  could  not  perceive  (so  they  said)  what  good 
was  likely  to  result  from  their  getting  wet  to  the 
skin,  merely  to  take  a  part  in  such  horrible  incan 
tations.  I  began  to  get  uneasy,  and  worked  away 
with  all  my  might,  for  I  verily  believe  the  idiots 
supposed  that  I  had  entered  into  a  compact  with  the 
Devil,  and  that,  in  short,  what  I  was  now  doing  was 
nothing  better  than  it  should  be.  I  was,  therefore, 
in  great  fear  of  their  leaving  me  altogether.  I  con 
trived,  however,  to  pacify  them  by  promises  of  pay 
ment  of  all  scores  in  full,  as  soon  as  I  could  bring 
the  present  business  to  a  termination.  To  these 
speeches  they  gave,  of  course,  their  own  interpreta 
tion;  fancying,  no  doubt,  that  at  all  events  I  should 
come  into  possession  of  vast  quantities  of  ready 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  55 

money;  and  provided  I  paid  them  all  I  owed,  and  a 
trifle  more,  in  consideration  of  their  services,  I  dare 
say  they  cared  very  little  what  became  of  either  my 
soul  or  my  carcass. 

"In  about  four  hours  and  a  half  I  found  the  bal 
loon  sufficiently  inflated.  I  attached  the  car,  there 
fore,  and  put  all  my  implements  in  it :  a  telescope,  a 
barometer,  with  some  important  modifications;  a 
thermometer;  an  electrometer;  a  compass;  a  mag 
netic  needle;  a  seconds  watch;  a  bell;  a  speaking- 
trumpet,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.;  also  a  globe  of  glass,  ex 
hausted  of  air,  and  carefully  closed  with  a  stopper — 
not  forgetting  the  condensing  apparatus,  some  un- 
slacked  lime,  a  stick  of  sealing-wax,  a  copious  sup 
ply  of  water,  and  a  large  quantity  of  provisions,  such 
as  pemmican,  in  which  much  nutriment  is  contained 
in  comparatively  little  bulk.  I  also  secured  in  the 
car  a  pair  of  pigeons  and  a  cat. 

"It  was  now  nearly  daybreak,  and  I  thought  it 
high  time  to  take  my  departure.  Dropping  a  lighted 
cigar  on  the  ground,  as  if  by  accident,  I  took  the 
opportunity,  in  stooping  to  pick  it  up,  of  igniting 
privately  the  piece  of  slow-match,  the  end  of  which, 
as  I  said  before,  protruded  a  little  beyond  the  lower 
rim  of  one  of  the  smaller  casks.  This  manoeuvre 
was  totally  unperceived  on  the  part  of  the  three 
duns ;  and,  jumping  into  the  car,  I  immediately  cut 
the  single  cord  which  held  me  to  the  earth,  and  was 
pleased  to  find  that  I  shot  upward  with  inconceiv- 


56          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

able  rapidity,  carrying  with  all  ease  one  hundred 
and  seventy-five  pounds  of  leaden  ballast,  and  able 
to  have  carried  up  as  many  more.  As  I  left  the 
earth,  the  barometer  stood  at  thirty  inches,  and  the 
centigrade  thermometer  at  19°. 

"Scarcely,  however,  had  I  attained  the  height  of 
fifty  yards,  when,  roaring  and  rumbling  up  after  me 
in  the  most  tumultuous  and  terrible  manner,  came 
so  dense  a  hurricane  of  fire,  and  gravel,  and  burn 
ing  wood,  and  blazing  metal,  and  mangled  limbs, 
that  my  very  heart  sunk  within  me,  and  I  fell  down 
in  the  bottom  of  the  car,  trembling  with  terror.  In 
deed,  I  now  perceived  that  I  had  entirely  overdone 
the  business,  and  that  the  main  consequences  of  the 
shock  were  yet  to  be  experienced.  Accordingly, 
in  less  than  a  second,  I  felt  all  the  blood  in  my  body 
rushing  to  my  temples,  and  immediately  thereupon, 
a  concussion,  which  I  shall  never  forget,  burst 
abruptly  through  the  night,  and  seemed  to  rip  the 
very  firmament  asunder.  When  I  afterward  had 
time  for  reflection,  I  did  not  fail  to  attribute  the  ex 
treme  violence  of  the  explosion,  as  regarded  myself, 
to  its  proper  cause — my  situation  directly  above  it, 
and  in  the  line  of  its  greatest  power.  But  at  the 
time,  I  thought  only  of  preserving  my  life.  The  bal 
loon  at  first  collapsed,  then  furiously  expanded,  then 
whirled  round  and  round  with  sickening  velocity, 
and  finally,  reeling  and  staggering  like  a  drunken 
man,  hurled  me  over  the  rim  of  the  car,  and  left  me 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  57 

dangling,  at  a  terrific  height,  with  my  head  down 
ward,  and  my  face  outward,  by  a  piece  of  slender 
cord  about  three  feet  in  length,  which  hung  acci 
dentally  through  a  crevice  near  the  bottom  of  the 
wicker-work,  and  in  which,  as  I  fell,  my  left  foot  be 
came  most  providentially  entangled.  It  is  impos 
sible — utterly  impossible — to  form  any  adequate  idea 
of  the  horror  of  my  situation.  I  gasped  convul 
sively  for  breath — a  shudder  resembling  a  fit  of  the 
ague  agitated  every  nerve  and  muscle  in  my  frame — 
I  felt  my  eyes  starting  from  their  sockets — a  horri 
ble  nausea  overwhelmed  me — and  at  length  I  lost  all 
consciousness  in  a  swoon. 

"How  long  I  remained  in  this  state  it  is  impossi 
ble  to  say.  It  must,  however,  have  been  no  incon 
siderable  time,  for  when  I  partially  recovered  the 
sense  of  existence,  I  found  the  day  breaking,  the  bal 
loon  at  a  prodigious  height  over  a  wilderness  of 
ocean,  and  not  a  trace  of  land  to  be  discovered  far 
and  wide  within  the  limits  of  the  vast  horizon.  My 
sensations,  however,  upon  thus  recovering,  were  by 
no  means  so  replete  with  agony  as  might  have  been 
anticipated.  Indeed,  there  was  much  of  madness 
in  the  calm  survey  which  I  began  to  take  of  my 
situation.  I  drew  up  to  my  eyes  each  of  my  hands, 
one  after  the  other,  and  wondered  what  occurrence 
could  have  given  rise  to  the  swelling  of  the  veins, 
and  the  horrible  blackness  of  the  finger-nails.  I 
afterward  carefully  examined  my  head,  shaking  it 


58          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Foe 

repeatedly,  and  feeling  it  with  minute  attention,  un 
til  I  succeeded  in  satisfying  myself  that  it  was  not, 
as  I  had  more  than  half  suspected,  larger  than  my 
balloon.  Then,  in  a  knowing  manner,  I  felt  in  both 
my  breeches  pockets,  and,  missing  therefrom  a  set  of 
tablets  and  a  toothpick  case,  endeavored  to  account 
for  their  disappearance,  and  not  being  able  to  do  so, 
felt  inexpressibly  chagrined.  It  now  occurred  to  me 
that  I  suffered  great  uneasiness  in  the  joint  of  my 
left  ankle,  and  a  dim  consciousness  of  my  situation 
began  to  glimmer  through  my  mind.  But,  strange 
to  say !  I  was  neither  astonished  nor  horror-stricken. 
If  I  felt  any  emotion  at  all,  it  was  a  kind  of  chuck 
ling  satisfaction  at  the  cleverness  I  was  about  to  dis 
play  in  extricating  myself  from  this  dilemma;  and 
never,  for  a  moment,  did  I  look  upon  my  ultimate 
safety  as  a  question  susceptible  of  doubt.  For  a  few 
minutes  I  remained  wrapped  in  the  profoundest  med 
itation.  I  have  a  distinct  recollection  of  frequently 
compressing  my  lips,  putting  my  forefinger  to  the 
side  of  my  nose,  and  making  use  -of  other  gesticula 
tions  and  grimaces  common  to  men  who,  at  ease  in 
their  armchairs,  meditate  upon  matters  of  intricacy 
or  importance.  Having,  as  I  thought,  sufficiently 
collected  my  ideas,  I  now,  with  great  caution  and 
deliberation,  put  my  hands  behind  my  back,  and  un 
fastened  the  large  iron  buckle  which  belonged  to  the 
waistband  of  my  pantaloons.  This  buckle  had  three 
teeth,  which,  being  somewhat  rusty,  turned  with 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  59 

great  difficulty  on  their  axis.  I  brought  them,  how 
ever,  after  some  trouble,  at  right  angles  to  the  body 
of  the  buckle,  and  was  glad  to  find  them  remain  firm 
in  that  position.  Holding  within  my  teeth  the  in 
strument  thus  obtained,  I  now  proceeded  to  untie  the 
knot  of  my  cravat.  I  had  to  rest  several  times  be 
fore  I  could  accomplish  this  manoeuvre ;  but  it  was  at 
length  accomplished.  To  one  end  of  the  cravat  I 
then  made  fast  the  buckle,  and  the  other  end  I  tied, 
for  greater  security,  tightly  around  my  wrist.  Draw 
ing  now  my  body  upward,  with  a  prodigious  exer 
tion  of  muscular  force,  I  succeeded,  at  the  very  first 
trial,  in  throwing  the  buckle  over  the  car,  and  en 
tangling  it,  as  I  had  anticipated,  in  the  circular  rim 
of  the  wicker-work. 

"My  body  was  now  inclined  toward  the  side  of 
the  car,  at  an  angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees ;  but 
it  must  not  be  understood  that  I  was  therefore  only 
forty-five  degrees  below  the  perpendicular.  So  far 
from  it,  I  still  lay  nearly  level  with  the  plane  of  the 
horizon;  for  the  change  of  situation  which  I  had  ac 
quired,  had  forced  the  bottom  of  the  car  considerably 
outward  from  my  position,  which  was  accordingly 
one  of  the  most  imminent  peril.  It  should  be  re 
membered,  however,  that  when  I  fell,  in  the  first  in 
stance,  from  the  car,  if  I  had  fallen  with  my  face 
turned  toward  the  balloon,  instead  of  turned  out 
wardly  from  it,  as  it  actually  was;  or  if,  in  the  sec 
ond  place,  the  cord  by  which  I  was  suspended  had 


60          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

chanced  to  hang  over  the  upper  edge,  instead  of 
through  a  crevice  near  the  bottom  of  the  car — I  say 
it  may  readily  be  conceived  that,  in  either  of  these 
supposed  cases,  I  should  have  been  unable  to  ac 
complish  even  as  much  as  I  had  now  accomplished, 
and  the  disclosures  now  made  would  have  been  ut 
terly  lost  to  posterity.  I  had  therefore  every  reason 
to  be  grateful ;  although,  in  point  of  fact,  I  was  still 
too  stupid  to  be  anything  at  all,  and  hung  for,  per 
haps,  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  in  that  extraordinary 
manner,  without  making  the  slightest  further  exer 
tion,  and  in  a  singularly  tranquil  state  of  idiotic  en 
joyment.  But  this  feeling  did  not  fail  to  die  rapidly 
away,  and  thereunto  succeeded  horror,  and  dismay, 
and  a  sense  of  utter  helplessness  and  ruin.  In  fact, 
the  blood  so  long  accumulating  in  the  vessels  of  my 
head  and  throat,  and  which  had  hitherto  buoyed  up 
my  spirits  with  delirium,  had  now  begun  to  retire 
within  their  proper  channels,  and  the  distinctness 
which  was  thus  added  to  my  perception  of  the  dan 
ger,  merely  served  to  deprive  me  of  the  self-posses 
sion  and  courage  to  encounter  it.  But  this  weak 
ness  was,  luckily  for  me,  of  no  very  long  duration. 
In  good  time  came  to  my  rescue  the  spirit  of  despair, 
and,  with  frantk  cries  and  struggles,  I  jerked  my 
way  bodily  upward,  till  at  length,  clutching  with  a 
vise-like  grip  the  long-desired  rim,  I  writhed  my  per 
son  over  it,  and  fell  headlong  and  shuddering  within 
the  car. 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  61 

"It  was  not  until  some  time  afterward  that  I  re 
covered  myself  sufficiently  to  attend  to  the  ordinary 
cares  of  the  balloon.  I  then,  however,  examined  it 
with  attention,  and  found  it,  to  my  great  relief,  un 
injured.  My  implements  were  all  safe,  and,  fortu 
nately,  I  had  lost  neither  ballast  nor  provisions.  In 
deed,  I  had  so  well  secured  them  in  their  places, 
that  such  an  accident  was  entirely  out  of  the  ques 
tion.  Looking  at  my  watch,  I  found  it  six  o'clock. 
I  was  still  rapidly  ascending,  and  the  barometer  gave 
a  present  altitude  of  three  and  three-quarter  miles. 
Immediately  beneath  me  in  the  ocean  lay  a  small 
black  object,  slightly  oblong  in  shape,  seemingly 
about  the  size  of  a  domino,  and  in  every  respect 
bearing  a  great  resemblance  to  one  of  those  toys. 
Bringing  my  telescope  to  bear  upon  it,  I  plainly 
discerned  it  to  be  a  British  ninety-four-gun  ship, 
close-hauled,  and  pitching  heavily  in  the  sea  with 
her  head  to  the  W.  S.  W.  Besides  this  ship,  I  saw 
nothing  but  the  ocean  and  the  sky,  and  the  sun, 
which  had  long  arisen. 

"It  is  now  high  time  that  I  should  explain  to  your 
Excellencies  the  object  of  my  voyage.  Your  Ex 
cellencies  will  bear  in  mind  that  distressed  circum 
stances  in  Rotterdam  had  at  length  driven  me  to  the 
resolution  of  committing  suicide.  It  was  not,  how 
ever,  that  to  life  itself  I  had  any  positive  disgust, 
but  that  I  was  harassed  beyond  endurance  by  the 
adventitious  miseries  attending  my  situation.  In 


62          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

this  state  of  mind,  wishing  to  live,  yet  wearied  with 
life,  the  treatise  at  the  stall  of  the  bookseller,  backed 
by  the  opportune  discovery  of  my  cousin  of  Nantz, 
opened  a  resource  to  my  imagination.  I  then  finally 
made  up  my  mind.  I  determined  to  depart,  yet  live 
— to  leave  the  world,  yet  continue  to  exist — in  short, 
to  drop  enigmas,  I  resolved,  let  what  would  ensue, 
to  force  a  passage,  if  I  could,  to  the  moon.  Now, 
lest  I  should  be  supposed  more  of  a  madman  than  I 
actually  am,  I  will  detail,  as  well  as  I  am  able,  the 
considerations  which  led  me  to  believe  that  an 
achievement  of  this  nature,  although  without  doubt 
difficult,  and  full  of  danger,  was  not  absolutely,  to 
a  bold  spirit,  beyond  the  confines  of  the  possible. 

"The  moon's  actual  distance  from  the  earth  was 
the  first  thing  to  be  attended  to.  Now,  the  mean  or 
average  interval  between  the  centres  of  the  two  plan 
ets  is  59.9643  of  the  earth's  equatorial  radii,  or  only 
about  237,000  miles.  I  say  the  mean  or  average  in 
terval,  but  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  form  of 
the  moon's  orbit  being  an  ellipse  of  eccentricity 
amounting  to  no  less  than  0.05484  of  the  major 
semi-axis  of  the  ellipse  itself,  and  the  earth's  centre 
being  situated  in  its  focus,  if  I  could,  in  any  manner, 
contrive  to  meet  the  moon  in  its  perigee,  the  above- 
mentioned  distance  would  be  materially  diminished. 
But,  to  say  nothing  at  present  of  this  possibility,  it 
was  very  certain  that,  at  all  events,  from  the  237,000 
miles  I  would  have  to  deduct  the  radius  of  the  earth, 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  63 

say  4,000,  and  the  radius  of  the  moon,  say  1,080,  in 
all  5,080,  leaving  an  actual  interval  to  be  traversed, 
under  average  circumstances,  of  231,920  miles. 
Now  this,  I  reflected,  was  no  very  extraordinary  dis 
tance.  Travelling  on  the  land  has  been  repeatedly 
accomplished  at  the  rate  of  sixty  miles  per  hour ;  and 
indeed  a  much  greater  speed  may  be  anticipated.  But 
even  at  this  velocity,  it  would  take  me  no  more  than 
161  days  to  reach  the  surface  of  the  moon.  There 
were,  however,  many  particulars  inducing  me  to  be 
lieve  that  my  average  rate  of  travelling  might  possi 
bly  very  much  exceed  that  of  sixty  miles  per  hour, 
and,  as  these  considerations  did  not  fail  to  make  a 
deep  impression  upon  my  mind,  I  will  mention  them 
more  fully  hereafter. 

"The  next  point  to  be  regarded  was  one  of  far 
greater  importance.  From  indications  afforded  by 
the  barometer,  we  find  that,  in  ascensions  from  the 
surface  of  the  earth  we  have,  at  the  height  of  1,000 
feet,  left  below  us  about  one-thirtieth  of  the  entire 
mass  of  atmospheric  air;  that  at  10,600  we  have 
ascended  through  nearly  one-third;  and  that  at 
18,000,  which  is  not  far  from  the  elevation  of  Coto- 
paxi,  we  have  surmounted  one-half  the  material, 
or,  at  all  events,  one-half  the  ponderable,  body  of 
air  incumbent  upon  our  globe.  It  is  also  calculated 
that  at  an  altitude  not  exceeding  the  hundreth  part 
of  the  earth's  diameter — that  is,  not  exceeding  eighty 
miles — the  rarefaction  would  be  so  excessive  that 


64          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

animal  life  could  in  no  manner  be  sustained,  and, 
moreover,  that  the  most  delicate  means  we  possess 
of  ascertaining  the  presence  of  the  atmosphere  would 
be  inadequate  to  assure  us  of  its  existence.  But  I 
did  not  fail  to  perceive  that  these  latter  calculations 
are  founded  altogether  on  our  experimental  knowl 
edge  of  the  properties  of  air,  and  the  mechanical 
laws  regulating  its  dilation  and  compression,  in  what 
may  be  called,  comparatively  speaking,  the  immedi 
ate  vicinity  of  the  earth  itself ;  and,  at  the  same  time, 
it  is  taken  for  granted  that  animal  life  is  and  must 
be  essentially  incapable  of  modification  at  any  given 
unattainable  distance  from  the  surface.  Now,  all 
such  reasoning  and  from  such  data  must,  of  course, 
be  simply  analogical.  The  greatest  height  ever 
reached  by  man  was  that  of  25,000  feet,  attained  in 
the  aeronautic  expedition  of  Messieurs  Gay-Lussac 
and  Biot.  This  is  a  moderate  altitude,  even  when 
compared  with  the  eighty  miles  in  question;  and  I 
could  not  help  thinking  that  the  subject  admitted 
room  for  doubt  and  great  latitude  for  speculation. 
"But,  in  point  of  fact,  an  ascension  being  made  to 
any  given  altitude,  the  ponderable  quantity  of  air 
surmounted  in  any  further  ascension  is  by  no  means 
in  proportion  to  the  additional  height  ascended  (as 
may  be  plainly  seen  from  what  has  been  stated  be 
fore),  but  in  a  ratio  constantly  decreasing.  It  is 
therefore  evident  that,  ascend  as  high  as  we  may, 
we  cannot,  literally  speaking,  arrive  at  a  limit  beyond 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  65 

which  no  atmosphere  is  to  be  found.  It  must  exist, 
I  argued ;  although  it  may  exist  in  a  state  of  infinite 
rarefaction. 

"On  the  other  hand,  I  was  aware  that  arguments 
have  not  been  wanting  to  prove  the  existence  of  a 
real  and  definite  limit  to  the  atmosphere,  beyond 
which  there  is  absolutely  no  air  whatsoever.  But  a 
circumstance  which  has  been  left  out  of  view  by 
those  who  contend  for  such  a  limit,  seemed  to  me, 
although  no  positive  refutation  of  their  creed,  still 
a  point  worthy  of  very  serious  investigation.  On 
comparing  the  intervals  between  the  successive  ar 
rivals  of  Encke's  comet  at  its  perihelion,  after  giving 
credit,  in  the  most  exact  manner,  for  all  the  disturb 
ances  due  to  the  attractions  of  the  planets,  it  appears 
that  the  periods  are  gradually  diminishing;  that  is 
to  say,  the  major  axis  of  the  comet's  ellipse  is  grow 
ing  shorter,  in  a  slow  but  perfectly  regular  decrease. 
Now,  this  is  precisely  what  ought  to  be  the  case,  if 
we  suppose  a  resistance  experienced  from  the  comet 
from  an  extremely  rare  ethereal  medium  pervading 
the  regions  of  its  orbit.  For  it  is  evident  that  such 
a  medium  must,  in  retarding  the  comet's  velocity, 
increase  its  centripetal,  by  weakening  its  centrifugal, 
force.  In  other  words,  the  sun's  attraction  would 
be  constantly  attaining  greater  power,  and  the  comet 
would  be  drawn  nearer  at  every  revolution.  In 
deed,  there  is  no  other  way  of  accounting  for  the 
variation  in  question.  But  again: — The  real  di- 


66          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

ameter  of  the  same  comet's  nebulosity  is  observed  to 
contract  rapidly  as  it  approaches  the  sun,  and  dilate 
with  equal  rapidity  in  its  departure  toward  its  aphe 
lion.  Was  I  not  justfiable  in  supposing,  with  M. 
Valz,  that  this  apparent  condensation  of  volume  has 
its  origin  in  the  compression  of  the  same  ethereal 
medium  I  have  spoken  of  before,  and  which  is  dense 
in  proportion  to  its  vicinity  to  the  sun?  The  len 
ticular-shaped  phenomenon,  also  called  the  zodiacal 
light,  was  a  matter  worthy  of  attention.  This  radi 
ance,  so  apparent  in  the  tropics,  and  which  cannot 
be  mistaken  for  any  meteoric  lustre,  extends  from 
the  horizon  obliquely  upward,  and  follows  generally 
the  direction  of  the  sun's  equator.  It  appeared  to 
me  evidently  in  Jie  nature  of  a  rare  atmosphere  ex 
tending  from  the  sun  outward,  beyond  the  orbit  of 
Venus  at  least,  and  I  believed  indefinitely  further.* 
Indeed,  this  medium  I  could  not  suppose  confined  to 
the  path  of  the  comet's  eclipse,  or  to  the  immediate 
neighborhood  of  the  sun.  It  was  easy,  on  the 
contrary,  to  imagine  it  pervading  the  entire  regions 
of  our  planetary  system,  condensed  into  what  we 
call  atmosphere  at  the  planets  themselves,  and  per 
haps  at  some  of  them  modified  by  considerations 
purely  geological ;  that  is  to  say,  modified,  or  varied 
in  its  proportions  (or  absolute  nature)  by  matters 
volatilized  from  the  respective  orbs. 

*The  zodiacal  light  is  probably  what  the  ancients  called 
Trabes.    Emicant  Trabes  quos  docos  vacant. — Pliny  lib.  2,  p.  26, 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  67 

"Having  adopted  this  view  of  the  subject,  I  had 
little  further  hesitation.  Granting  that  on  my  pas 
sage  I  should  meet  with  atmosphere  essentially  the 
same  as  at  the  surface  of  the  earth,  I  conceived  that, 
by  means  of  the  very  ingenious  apparatus  of  M. 
Grimm,  I  should  readily  be  enabled  to  condense  it  in 
sufficient  quantity  for  the  purpose  of  respiration. 
This  would  remove  the  chief  obstacle  in  a  journey 
to  the  moon.  I  had  indeed  spent  some  money  and 
great  labor  in  adapting  the  apparatus  to  the  object 
intended,  and  confidently  looked  forward  to  its  suc 
cessful  application,  if  I  could  manage  to  complete  the 
voyage  within  any  reasonable  period.  This  brings 
me  back  to  the  rate  at  which  it  would  be  possible 
to  travel. 

"It  is  true  that  balloons,  in  the  first  stage  of  their 
ascensions  from  the  earth,  are  known  to  rise  with  a 
velocity  comparatively  moderate.  Now,  the  power 
of  elevation  lies  altogether  in  the  superior  gravity  of 
the  atmospheric  air  compared  with  the  gas  in  the 
balloon;  and,  at  first  sight,  it  does  not  appear  prob 
able  that,  as  the  balloon  acquires  altitude,  and  conse 
quently  arrives  successively  in  atmospheric  strata  of 
densities  rapidly  diminishing — I  say,  it  does  not 
appear  at  all  reasonable  that,  in  this  its  progress  up 
ward,  the  original  velocity  should  be  accelerated. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  was  not  aware  that,  in  any  re 
corded  ascension,  a  diminution  had  been  proved  to 
be  apparent  in  the  absolute  rate  of  ascent ;  although 


68          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

such  should  have  been  the  case,  if  on  account  of 
nothing  else,  on  account  of  the  escape  of  gas  through 
balloons  ill-constructed,  and  varnished  with  no  bet 
ter  material  than  the  ordinary  varnish.  It  seemed, 
therefore,  that  the  effect  of  such  escape  was  only 
sufficient  to  counterbalance  the  effect  of  the  ac 
celeration  attained  in  the  diminishing  of  the  bal 
loon's  distance  from  the  gravitating  centre.  I  now 
considered  that,  provided  in  my  passage  I  found 
the  medium  I  had  imagined,  and  provided  that  it 
should  prove  to  be  essentially  what  we  denominate 
atmospheric  air,  it  could  make  comparatively  little 
difference  at  what  extreme  state  of  rarefaction  I 
should  discover  it — that  is  to  say,  in  regard  to  my 
power  of  ascending — for  the  gas  in  the  balloon  would 
not  only  be  itself  subject  to  similar  rarefaction  (in 
proportion  to  the  occurrence  of  which,  I  could  suffer 
an  escape  of  so  much  as  would  be  requisite  to  pre 
vent  explosion),  but,  being  what  it  was,  would,  at  all 
events,  continue  specifically  lighter  than  any  com 
pound  whatever  of  mere  nitrogen  and  oxygen.  Thus 
there  was  a  chance — in  fact,  there  was  a  strong  prob 
ability — that,  at  no  epoch  of  my  ascent,  I  should 
reach  a  point  where  the  united  weights  of  my  im 
mense  balloon,  the  inconceivably  rare  gas  within  it, 
the  car,  and  its  contents,  should  equal  the  weight 
of  the  mass  of  the  surrounding  atmosphere  dis 
placed;  and  this  will  be  readily  understood  as  the 
sole  condition  upon  which  my  upward  flight  would 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  69 

be  arrested.  But,  if  this  point  were  even  attained, 
I  could  dispense  with  ballast  and  other  weight  to  the 
amount  of  nearly  three  hundred  pounds.  In  the 
meantime,  the  force  of  gravitation  would  be  con 
stantly  diminishing,  in  proportion  to  the  squares  of 
the  distances,  and  so,  with  a  velocity  prodigiously  ac 
celerating,  I  should  at  length  arrive  in  those  distant 
regions  where  the  force  of  the  earth's  attraction 
would  be  superseded  by  that  of  the  moon. 

"There  was  another  difficulty,  however,  which  oc 
casioned  me  some  little  disquietude.  It  has  been 
observed  that,  in  balloon  ascensions  to  any  consider 
able  height,  besides  the  pain  attending  respiration, 
great  uneasiness  is  experienced  about  the  head  and 
body,  often  accompanied  with  bleeding  at  the  nose, 
and  other  symptoms  of  an  alarming  kind,  and  grow 
ing  more  and  more  inconvenient  in  proportion  to 
the  altitude  attained.*  This  was  a  reflection  of  a 
nature  somewhat  startling.  Was  it  not  probable 
that  these  symptoms  would  increase  until  terminated 
by  death  itself?  I  finally  thought  not.  Their 
origin  was  to  be  looked  for  in  the  progressive  re 
moval  of  the  customary  atmospheric  pressure  upon 
the  surface  of  the  body,  and  consequent  distention  of 


*Since  the  original  publication  of  Hans  Pfaall,  I  find  that 
Mr.  Green,  of  Nassau-balloon  notoriety,  and  other  late  aero 
nauts,  deny  the  assertions  of  Humboldt,  in  this  respect,  and 
speak  of  a  decreasing  inconvenience — precisely  in  accordance 
with  the  theory  here  urged. 


yd          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

the  superficial  blood-vessels — not  in  any  positive  dis 
organization  of  the  animal  system,  as  in  the  case 
of  difficulty  in  breathing,  where  the  atmospheric 
density  is  chemically  insufficient  for  the  due  reno 
vation  of  blood  in  a  ventricle  of  the  heart.  Unless 
for  default  of  this  renovation,  I  could  see  no  reason, 
therefore,  why  life  could  not  be  sustained  even  in  a 
vacuum;  for  the  expansion  and  compression  of 
chest,  commonly  called  breathing,  is  action  purely 
muscular,  and  the  cause,  not  the  effect,  of  respira 
tion.  In  a  word,  I  conceived  that,  as  tfie  body 
should  become  habituated  to  the  want  of  atmos 
pheric  pressure,  the  sensations  of  pain  would  grad 
ually  diminish — and  to  endure  them  while  they  con 
tinued,  I  relied  with  confidence  upon  the  iron  hard 
ihood  of  my  constitution. 

"Thus,  may  it  please  your  Excellencies,  I  have 
detailed  some,  though  by  no  means  all,  the  consid 
erations  which  led  me  to  form  the  project  of  a  lunar 
voyage.  I  shall  now  proceed  to  lay  before  you  the 
result  of  an  attempt  so  apparently  audacious  in  con 
ception,  and,  at  all  events,  so  utterly  unparalleled  in 
the  annals  of  mankind. 

"Having  attained  the  altitude  before  mentioned — 
that  is  to  say,  three  miles  and  three  quarters — I  threw 
out  from  the  car  a  quantity  of  feathers,  and  found 
that  I  still  ascended  with  sufficient  rapidity;  there 
was,  therefore,  no  necessity  for  discharging  any  bal 
last.  I  was  glad  of  this,  for  I  wished  to  retain  with 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  71 

me  as  much  weight  as  I  could  carry,  for  the  obvious 
reason  that  I  could  not  be  positive  either  about  the 
gravitation  or  the  atmospheric  density  of  the  moon. 
I  as  yet  suffered  no  bodily  inconvenience,  breath 
ing  with  great  freedom,  and  feeling  no  pain  what 
ever  in  the  head.  The  cat  was  lying  very  demurely 
upon  my  coat,  which  I  had  taken  off,  and  eying  the 
pigeons  with  an  air  of  nonchalance.  These  latter 
being  tied  by  the  leg,  to  prevent  their  escape,  were 
busily  employed  in  picking  up  some  grains  of  rice 
scattered  for  them  in  the  bottom  of  the  car. 

"At  twenty  minutes  past  six  o'clock,  the  barometer 
showed  an  elevation  of  26,400  feet,  or  five  miles  to 
a  fraction.  The  prospect  seemed  unbounded.  In 
deed,  it  is  very  easily  calculated  by  means  of  spher 
ical  geometry,  how  great  an  extent  of  the  earth's 
area  I  beheld.  The  convex  surface  of  any  segment 
of  a  sphere  is,  to  the  entire  surface  of  the  sphere  it 
self,  as  the  versed  sine  of  the  segment  to  the  diame 
ter  of  the  sphere.  Now,  in  my  case,  the  versed  sine 
— that  is  to  say,  the  thickness  of  the  segment  be 
neath  me — was  about  equal  to  my  elevation,  or  the 
elevation  of  the  point  of  sight  above  the  surface. 
'As  five  miles,  then,  to  eight  thousand/  would  ex 
press  the  proportion  of  the  earth's  area  seen  by  me. 
In  other  words,  I  beheld  as  much  as  a  sixteen- 
hundredth  part  of  the  whole  surface  of  the  globe. 
The  sea  appeared  unruffled  as  a  mirror,  although, 
by  means  of  the  telescope,  I  could  perceive  it  to  be 


72          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

in  a  state  of  violent  agitation.  The  ship  was  no 
longer  visible,  having  drifted  away,  apparently  to 
the  eastward.  I  now  began  to  experience,  at  inter 
vals,  severe  pain  in  the  head,  especially  about  the 
ears — still,  however,  breathing  with  tolerable  free 
dom.  The  cat  and  pigeons  seemed  to  suffer  no  in 
convenience  whatsoever. 

"At  twenty  minutes  before  seven,  the  balloon  en 
tered  a  long  series  of  dense  cloud,  which  put  me  to 
great  trouble,  by  damaging  my  condensing  appara 
tus,  and  wetting  me  to  the  skin ;  this  was,  to  be  sure, 
a  singular  rencontre,  for  I  had  not  believed  it  possible 
that  a  cloud  of  this  nature  could  be  sustained  at  so 
great  an  elevation.  I  thought  it  best,  however,  to 
throw  out  two  five-pound  pieces  of  ballast,  reserv 
ing  still  a  weight  of  one  hundred  and  sixty-five 
pounds.  Upon  so  doing,  I  soon  rose  above  the 
difficulty,  and  perceived  immediately  that  I  had  ob 
tained  a  great  increase  in  my  rate  of  ascent.  In  a 
few  seconds  after  my  leaving  the  cloud,  a  flash  of 
vivid  lightning  shot  from  one  end  of  it  to  the  other, 
and  caused  it  to  kindle  up,  throughout  its  vast  ex 
tent,  like  a  mass  of  ignited  charcoal.  This,  it  must 
be  remembered,  was  in  the  broad  light  of  day.  No 
fancy  may  picture  the  sublimity  which  might  have 
been  exhibited  by  a  similar  phenomenon  taking  place 
amid  the  darkness  of  the  night.  Hell  itself  might 
have  been  found  a  fitting  image.  Even  as  it  was, 
my  hair  stood  on  end,  while  I  gazed  afar  down  with- 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  73 

in  the  yawning  abysses,  letting  imagination  descend, 
and  stalk  about  in  the  strange  vaulted  halls,  and 
ruddy  gulfs,  and  red,  ghastly  chasms  of  the  hide 
ous  and  unfathomable  fire.  I  had  indeed  made  a 
narrow  escape.  Had  the  balloon  remained  a  very 
short  while  longer  within  the  cloud — that  is  to  say, 
had  not  the  inconvenience  of  getting  wet  deter 
mined  me  to  discharge  the  ballast — my  destruction 
might,  and  probably  would,  have  been  the  conse 
quence.  Such  perils,  although  little  considered,  are 
perhaps  the  greatest  which  must  be  encountered  in 
balloons.  I  had  by  this  time,  however,  attained  too 
great  an  elevation  to  be  any  longer  uneasy  on  this 
head. 

"I  was  now  rising  rapidly,  and  by  seven  o'clock 
the  barometer  indicated  an  altitude  of  no  less  than 
nine  miles  and  a  half.  I  began  to  find  great  diffi 
culty  in  drawing  my  breath.  My  head,  too,  was 
excessively  painful ;  and,  having  felt  for  some  time  a 
moisture  about  my  cheeks,  I  at  length  discovered 
it  to  be  blood,  which  was  oozing  quite  fast  from  the 
drums  of  my  ears.  My  eyes,  also,  gave  me  great 
uneasiness.  Upon  passing  the  hand  over  them  they 
seemed  to  have  protruded  from  their  sockets  in  no 
inconsiderable  degree;  and  all  objects  in  the  car,  and 
even  the  balloon  itself,  appeared  distorted  to  my  vis 
ion.  These  symptoms  were  more  than  I  had  ex 
pected,  and  occasioned  me  some  alarm.  At  this 
juncture,  very  imprudently,  and  without  considera- 

l-Poe-4 


74          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

tion,  I  threw  out  from  the  car  three  five-pound  pieces 
of  ballast.  The  accelerated  rate  of  ascent  thus  ob 
tained,  carried  me  too  rapidly,  and  without  suffi 
cient  gradation,  into  a  highly  rarefied  stratum  of 
the  atmosphere,  and  the  result  had  nearly  proved 
fatal  to  my  expedition  and  to  myself.  I  was  sud 
denly  seized  with  a  spasm  which  lasted  for  more  than 
five  minutes,  and  even  when  this,  in  a  measure, 
ceased,  I  could  catch  my  breath  only  at  long  inter 
vals,  and  in  a  gasping  manner — bleeding  all  the 
while  copiously  at  the  nose  and  ears,  and  even 
slightly  at  the  eyes.  The  pigeons  appeared  dis 
tressed  in  the  extreme,  and  struggled  to  escape; 
while  the  cat  mewed  piteously,  and,  with  her  tongue 
hanging  out  of  her  mouth,  staggered  to  and  fro  in 
the  car  as  if  under  the  influence  of  poison.  I  now 
too  late  discovered  the  great  rashness  of  which  I 
had  been  guilty  in  discharging  the  ballast,  and  my 
agitation  was  excessive.  I  anticipated  nothing  less 
than  death,  and  death  in  a  few  minutes.  The  physi 
cal  suffering  I  underwent  contributed  also  to  render 
me  nearly  incapable  of  making  any  exertion  for  the 
preservation  of  my  life.  I  had,  indeed,  little  power 
of  reflection  left,  and  the  violence  of  the  pain  in  my 
head  seemed  to  be  greatly  on  the  increase.  Thus  I 
found  that  my  senses  would  shortly  give  way  alto 
gether,  and  I  had  already  clutched  one  of  the  valve 
ropes  with  the  view  of  attempting  a  descent,  when 
the  recollection  of  the  trick  I  had  played  the  three 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  75 

creditors,  and  the  possible  consequences  to  myself, 
should  I  return,  operated  to  deter  me  for  the  mo 
ment.  I  lay  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  car,  and  en 
deavored  to  collect  my  faculties.  In  this  I  so  far 
succeeded  as  to  determine  upon  the  experiment  of 
losing  blood.  Having  no  lancet,  however,  I  was 
constrained  to  perform  the  operation  in  the  best 
manner  I  was  able,  and  finally  succeeded  in  opening 
a  vein  in  my  left  arm,  with  the  blade  of  my  pen 
knife.  The  blood  had  hardly  commenced  flowing 
when  I  experienced  a  sensible  relief,  and  by  the  time 
I  had  lost  about  half  a  moderate  basinful,  most  of 
the  worst  symptoms  had  abandoned  me  entirely.  I 
nevertheless  did  not  think  it  expedient  to  attempt 
getting  on  my  feet  immediately ;  but,  having  tied  up 
my  arm  as  well  as  I  could,  I  lay  still  for  about  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  At  the  end  of  this  time  I  arose, 
and  found  myself  freer  from  absolute  pain  of  any 
kind  than  I  had  been  during  the  last  hour  and  a 
quarter  of  my  ascension.  The  difficulty  of  breath 
ing,  however,  was  diminished  in  a  very  slight  de 
gree,  and  I  found  that  it  would  soon  be  positively 
necessary  to  make  use  of  my  condenser.  In  the 
meantime,  looking  toward  the  cat,  who  was  again 
snugly  stowed  away  upon  my  coat,  I  discovered  to 
my  infinite  surprise,  that  she  had  taken  the  oppor 
tunity  of  my  indisposition  to  bring  into  light  a  litter 
of  three  little  kittens.  This  was  an  addition  to  the 
number  of  passengers  on  my  part  altogether  unex- 


76          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

pected;  but  I  was  pleased  at  the  occurrence.  It 
would  afford  me  a  chance  of  bringing  to  a  kind  of 
test  the  truth  of  a  surmise,  which,  more  than  any 
thing  else,  had  influenced  me  in  attempting  this  as 
cension.  I  had  imagined  that  the  habitual  endur 
ance  of  the  atmospheric  pressure  at  the  surface  of 
the  earth  was  the  cause,  or  nearly  so,  of  the  pain  at 
tending  animal  existence  at  a  distance  above  the  sur 
face.  Should  the  kittens  be  found  to  suffer  uneasi 
ness  in  an  equal  degree  with  their  mother,  I  must 
consider  my  theory  in  fault,  but  a  failure  to  do  so 
I  should  look  upon  as  a  strong  confirmation  of  my 
idea. 

"By  eight  o'clock  I  had  actually  attained  an  ele 
vation  of  seventeen  miles  above  the  surface  of  the 
earth.  Thus  it  seemed  to  me  evident  that  my  rate 
of  ascent  was  not  only  on  the  increase,  but  that  the 
progression  would  have  been  apparent  in  a  slight 
degree  even  had  I  not  discharged  the  ballast  which 
I  did.  The  pains  in  my  head  and  ears  returned,  at 
intervals,  with  violence,  and  I  still  continued  to 
bleed  occasionally  at  the  nose;  but,  upon  the  whole, 
I  suffered  much  less  than  might  have  been  expected. 
I  breathed,  however,  at  every  moment,  with  more 
and  more  difficulty,  and  each  inhalation  was  at 
tended  with  a  troublesome  spasmodic  action  of  the 
chest.  I  now  unpacked  the  condensing  apparatus, 
and  got  it  ready  for  immediate  use. 

"The  view  of  the  earth,  at  this  period  of  my  ascen- 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  77 

sion,  was  beautiful  indeed.  To  the  westward,  the 
northward,  and  the  southward,  as  far  as  I  could  see, 
lay  a  boundless  sheet  of  apparently  unruffled  ocean, 
which  every  moment  gained  a  deeper  and  deeper 
tint  of  blue.  At  a  vast  distance  to  the  eastward,  al 
though  perfectly  discernible,  extended  the  islands  of 
Great  Britain,  the  entire  Atlantic  coasts  of  France 
and  Spain,  with  a  small  portion  of  the  northern  part 
of  the  continent  of  Africa.  Of  individual  edifices 
not  a  trace  could  be  discovered,  and  the  proudest 
cities  of  mankind  had  utterly  faded  away  from  the 
face  of  the  earth. 

"What  mainly  astonished  me,  in  the  appearance 
of  things  below,  was  the  seeming  concavity  of  the 
surface  of  the  globe.  I  had,  thoughtlessly  enough, 
expected  to  see  its  real  convexity  become  evident  as 
I  ascended ;  but  a  very  little  reflection  sufficed  to  ex 
plain  the  discrepancy.  A  line  dropped  from  my  po 
sition  perpendicularly  to  the  earth,  would  have 
formed  the  perpendicular  of  a  right-angled  triangle, 
of  which  the  base  would  have  extended  from  the 
right-angle  to  the  horizon,  and  the  hypothenuse  from 
the  horizon  to  my  position.  But  my  height  was  lit 
tle  or  nothing  in  comparison  with  my  prospect.  In 
other  words,  the  base  and  hypothenuse  of  the  sup 
posed  triangle  would,  in  my  case,  have  been  so  long, 
when  compared  to  the  perpendicular,  that  the  two 
former  might  have  been  regarded  as  nearly  parallel. 
In  this  manner  the  horizon  of  the  aeronaut  appears 


78          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

always  to  be  upon  a  level  with  the  car.  But  as  the 
point  immediately  beneath  him  seems,  and  is,  at  a 
great  distance  below  him,  it  seems,  of  course,  also 
at  a  great  distance  below  the  horizon.  Hence  the 
impression  of  concavity;  and  this  impression  must 
remain,  until  the  elevation  shall  bear  so  great  a 
proportion  to  the  prospect,  that  the  apparent  par 
allelism  of  the  base  and  hypothenuse  disappears. 

"The  pigeons  about  this  time  seeming  to  undergo 
much  suffering,  I  determined  upon  giving  them 
their  liberty.  I  first  untied  one  of  them,  a  beauti 
ful  gray-mottled  pigeon,  and  placed  him  upon  the 
rim  of  the  wicker-work.  He  appeared  extremely 
uneasy,  looking  anxiously  around  him,  fluttering  his 
wings,  and  making  a  loud  cooing  noise,  but  could 
not  be  persuaded  to  trust  himself  from  the  car.  I 
took  him  up  at  last,  and  threw  him  to  about  half  a 
dozen  yards  from  the  balloon.  He  made,  however, 
no  attempt  to  descend  as  I  had  expected,  but  strug 
gled  with  great  vehemence  to  get  back,  uttering  at 
the  same  time  very  shrill  and  piercing  cries.  He  at 
length  succeeded  in  regaining  his  former  station  on 
the  rim,  but  had  hardly  done  so  when  his  head 
dropped  upon  his  breast,  and  he  fell  dead  within  the 
car.  The  other  one  did  not  prove  so  unfortunate. 
To  prevent  his  following  the  example  of  his  com 
panion,  and  accomplishing  a  return,  I  threw  him 
downward  with  all  my  force,  and  was  pleased  to 
find  him  continue  his  descent,  with  great  velocity, 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  79 

making  use  of  his  wings  with  ease,  and  in  a  perfectly 
natural  manner.  In  a  very  short  time  he  was  out  of 
sight,  and  I  have  no  doubt  he  reached  home  in 
safety.  Puss,  who  seemed  in  a  great  measure  re 
covered  from  her  illness,  now  made  a  hearty  meal  of 
the  dead  bird,  and  then  went  to  sleep  with  much 
apparent  satisfaction.  Her  kittens  were  quite  lively, 
and  so  far  evinced  not  the  slightest  sign  of  any  un 
easiness. 

"At  a  quarter  past  eight,  being  no  longer  able  to 
draw  breath  without  the  most  intolerable  pain,  I 
proceeded  forthwith  to  adjust  around  the  car  the 
apparatus  belonging  to  the  condenser.  This  appa 
ratus  will  require  some  little  explanation,  and  your 
Excellencies  will  please  to  bear  in  mind  that  my  ob 
ject,  in  the  first  place,  was  to  surround  myself  and 
car  entirely  with  a  barricade  against  the  highly  rare 
fied  atmosphere  in  which  I  was  existing,  with  the 
intention  of  introducing  within  this  barricade,  by 
means  of  my  condenser,  a  quantity  of  this  same  at 
mosphere  sufficiently  condensed  for  the  purposes  of 
respiration.  With  this  object  in  view  I  had  pre 
pared  a  very  strong,  perfectly  air-tight,  but  flexible 
gum-elastic  bag.  In  this  bag,  which  was  of  suffi 
cient  dimensions,  the  entire  car  was  in  a  manner 
placed.  That  is  to  say,  it  (the  bag)  was  drawn  over 
the  whole  bottom  of  the  car,  up  its  sides,  and  so  on, 
along  the  outside  of  the  ropes,  to  the  upper  rim  or 
hoop  where  the  network  is  attached.  Having  pulled 


8o          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

the  bag  up  in  this  way,  and  formed  a  complete  en 
closure  on  all  sides,  and  at  bottom,  it  was  now  nec 
essary  to  fasten  up  its  top  or  mouth,  by  passing  its 
material  over  the  hoop  of  the  network — in  other 
words,  between  the  network  and  the  hoop.  But  if 
the  network  were  separated  from  the  hoop  to  admit 
this  passage,  what  was  to  sustain  the  car  in  the 
meantime?  Now,  the  network  was  not  perma 
nently  fastened  to  the  hoop,  but  attached  by  a  series 
of  running  loops  or  nooses.  I  therefore  undid  only 
a  few  of  these  loops  at  one  time,  leaving  the  car 
suspended  by  the  remainder.  Having  thus  inserted 
a  portion  of  the  cloth  forming  the  upper  part  of  the 
bag,  I  refastened  the  loops — not  to  the  hoop,  for  that 
would  have  been  impossible,  since  the  cloth  now 
intervened — but  to  a  series  of  large  buttons,  affixed 
to  the  cloth  itself,  about  three  feet  below  the  mouth 
of  the  bag ;  the  intervals  between  the  buttons  having 
been  made  to  correspond  to  the  intervals  between  the 
loops.  This  done,  a  few  more  of  the  loops  were 
unfastened  from  the  rim,  a  further  portion  of  the 
cloth  introduced,  and  the  disengaged  loops  then  con 
nected  with  their  proper  buttons.  In  this  way  it 
was  possible  to  insert  the  whole  upper  part  of  the 
bag  between  the  network  and  the  hoop.  It  is  evi 
dent  that  the  hoop  would  now  drop  down  within  the 
car,  while  the  whole  weight  of  the  car  itself,  with 
all  its  contents,  would  be  held  up  merely  by  the 
strength  of  the  buttons.  This,  at  first  sight,  would 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  81 

seem  an  inadequate  dependence;  but  it  was  by  no 
means  so,  for  the  buttons  were  not  only  very  strong 
in  themselves,  but  so  close  together  that  a  very  slight 
portion  of  the  whole  weight  was  supported  by  any 
one  of  them.  Indeed,  had  the  car  and  contents  been 
three  times  heavier  than  they  were,  I  should  not 
have  been  at  all  uneasy.  I  now  raised  up  the  hoop 
again  within  the  covering  of  gum-elastic,  and  proped 
it  at  nearly  its  former  height  by  means  of  three 
light  poles  prepared  for  the  occasion.  This  was 
done,  of  course,  to  keep  the  bag  distended  at  the  top, 
and  to  preserve  the  lower  part  of  the  network  in  its 
proper  situation.  All  that  now  remained  was  to 
fasten  up  the  mouth  of  the  inclosure;  and  this  was 
readily  accomplished  by  gathering  the  folds  of  the 
material  together,  and  twisting  them  up  very  tightly 
on  the  inside  by  means  of  a  kind  of  stationary 
tourniquet. 

"In  the  sides  of  the  covering  thus  adjusted  round 
the  car,  had  been  inserted  three  circular  panes  of 
thick  but  clear  glass,  through  which  I  could  see 
without  difficulty  around  me  in  every  horizontal  di 
rection.  In  that  portion  of  the  cloth  forming  the 
bottom  was,  likewise,  a  fourth  window,  of  the 
same  kind,  and  corresponding  with  a  small  aperture 
in  the  floor  of  the  car  itself.  This  enabled  me  to  see 
perpendicularly  down,  but  having  found  it  impos 
sible  to  place  any  similar  contrivance  overhead,  on 
account  of  the  peculiar  manner  of  closing  up  the 


82  Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

opening  there,  and  the  consequent  wrinkles  in  the 
cloth,  I  could  expect  to  see  no  objects  situated  di 
rectly  in  my  zenith.  This,  of  course,  was  a  matter 
of  little  consequence;  for,  had  I  even  been  able  to 
place  a  window  at  top,  the  balloon  itself  would  have 
prevented  my  making  any  use  of  it. 

"About  a  foot  below  one  of  the  side  windows  was 
a  circular  opening,  three  inches  in  diameter,  and 
fitted  with  a  brass  rim  adapted  in  its  inner  edge  to 
the  windings  of  a  screw.  In  this  rim  was  screwed 
the  large  tube  of  the  condenser,  the  body  of  the  ma 
chine  being,  of  course,  within  the  chamber  of  gum- 
elastic.  Through  this  tube  a  quantity  of  the  rare 
atmosphere  circumjacent  being  drawn  by  means  of 
a  vacuum  created  in  the  body  of  the  machine,  was 
thence  discharged,  in  a  state  of  condensation,  to  min 
gle  with  the  thin  air  already  in  the  chamber.  This 
operation  being  repeated  several  times,  at  length 
filled  the  chamber  with  atmosphere  proper  for  all 
the  purposes  of  respiration;  but  in  so  confined  a 
space  it  would,  in  a  short  time,  necessarily  become 
foul,  and  unfit  for  use  from  frequent  contact  with 
the  lungs.  It  was  then  ejected  by  a  small  valve  at 
the  bottom  of  the  car — the  dense  air  readily  sinking 
into  the  thinner  atmosphere  below.  To  avoid  the 
inconvenience  of  making  a  total  vacuum  at  any  mo 
ment  within  the  chamber,  this  purification  was  never' 
accomplished  all  at  once,  but  in  a  gradual  manner 
— the  valve  being  opened  only  for  a  few  secondss 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  83 

then  closed  again,  until  one  or  two  strokes  from  the 
pump  of  the  condenser  had  supplied  the  place  of  the 
atmosphere  ejected.  For  the  sake  of  experiment  I 
had  put  the  cat  and  kittens  in  a  small  basket,  and 
suspended  it  outside  the  car  to  a  button  at  the  bot 
tom,  close  by  the  valve,  through  which  I  could  feed 
them  at  any  moment  when  necessary.  I  did  this 
at  some  little  risk,  and  before  closing  the  mouth  of 
the  chamber,  by  reaching  under  the  car  with  one  of 
the  poles  before  mentioned  to  which  a  hook  had 
been  attached.  As  soon  as  dense  air  was  admitted 
in  the  chamber,  the  hoop  and  poles  became  unneces 
sary  the  expansion  of  the  enclosed  atmosphere  pow 
erfully  distending  the  gum-elastic. 

"By  the  time  I  had  fully  completed  these  ar 
rangements  and  filled  the  chamber  as  explained,  it 
wanted  only  ten  minutes  of  nine  o'clock.  During 
the  whole  period  of  my  being  thus  employed,  I  en 
dured  the  most  terrible  distress  from  difficulty  of 
respiration,  and  bitterly  did  I  repent  the  negligence 
or  rather  foolhardiness,  of  which  I  had  been  guilty, 
of  putting  off  to  the  last  moment  a  matter  of  so 
much  importance.  But  having  at  length  accom 
plished  it,  I  soon  began  to  reap  the  benefit  of  my 
invention.  Once  again  I  breathed  with  perfect 
freedom  and  ease — and  indeed  why  should  I  not? 
I  was  also  agreeably  surprised  to  find  myself,  in 
a  great  measure,  relieved  from  the  violent  pains 
which  had  hitherto  tormented  me.  A  slight  head- 


84          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

ache,  accompanied  with  a  sensation  of  fulness  or 
distention  about  the  wrists,  the  ankles,  and  the 
throat,  was  nearly  all  of  which  I  had  now  to  com 
plain.  Thus  it  seemed  evident  that  a  greater  part 
of  the  uneasiness  attending  the  removal  of  atmos 
pheric  pressure  had  actually  worn  off,  as  I  had  ex 
pected,  and  that  much  of  the  pain  endured  for  the 
last  two  hours  should  have  been  attributed  alto 
gether  to  the  effects  of  a  deficient  respiration. 

"At  twenty  minutes  before  nine  o'clock — that  is 
to  say,  a  short  time  prior  to  my  closing  up  the 
mouth  of  the  chamber,  the  mercury  attained  its 
limit,  or  ran  down,  in  the  barometer,  which,  as  I 
mentioned  before,  was  one  of  an  extended  construc 
tion.  It  then  indicated  an  altitude,  on  my  part,  of 
132,000  feet,  or  five-and-twenty  miles,  and  I  conse 
quently  surveyed  at  that  time  an  extent  of  the 
earth's  area  amounting  to  no  less  than  the  three- 
hundred-and-twentieth  part  of  its  entire  superficies. 
At  nine  o'clock  I  had  again  lost  sight  of  land  to  the 
eastward,  but  not  before  I  became  aware  that  the 
balloon  was  drifting  rapidly  to  the  N.  N.  W.  The 
ocean  beneath  me  still  retained  its  apparent  concav 
ity,  although  my  view  was  often  interrupted  by  the 
masses  of  cloud  which  floated  to  and  fro. 

"At  half  past  nine  I  tried  the  experiment  of  throw 
ing  out  a  handful  of  feathers  through  the  valve. 
They  did  not  float  as  I  had  expected;  but  dropped 
down  perpendicularly,  like  a  bullet,  en  masse,  and 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  85 

with  the  greatest  velocity — being  out  of  sight  in  a 
very  few  seconds.  I  did  not  at  first  know  what  to 
make  of  this  extraordinary  phenomenon;  not  being 
able  to  believe  that  my  rate  of  ascent  had,  of  a  sud 
den,  met  with  so  prodigious  an  acceleration.  But 
it  soon  occurred  to  me  that  the  atmosphere  was  now 
far  too  rare  to  sustain  even  the  feathers;  that  they 
actually  fell,  as  they  appear  to  do,  with  great  rapid 
ity ;  and  that  I  had  been  surprised  by  the  united  ve 
locities  of  their  descent  and  my  own  elevation. 

"By  ten  o'clock  I  found  that  I  had  very  little  to 
occupy  my  immediate  attention.  Affairs  went  swim 
mingly,  and  I  believed  the  balloon  to  be  going  up 
ward  with  a  speed  increasing  momently,  although 
I  had  no  longer  any  means  of  ascertaining  the  pro 
gression  of  the  increase.  I  suffered  no  pain  or  un 
easiness  of  any  kind,  and  enjoyed  better  spirits  than 
I  had  at  any  period  since  my  departure  from  Rot 
terdam  !  busying  myself  now  in  examining  the  state 
of  my  various  apparatus,  and  now  in  regenerating 
the  atmosphere  within  the  chamber.  This  latter 
point  I  determined  to  attend  to  at  regular  intervals 
of  forty  minutes,  more  on  account  of  the  preserva 
tion  of  my  health,  than  from  so  frequent  a  renova 
tion  being  absolutely  necessary.  In  the  meanwhile 
I  could  not  help  making  anticipations.  Fancy  rev 
elled  in  the  wild  and  dreamy  regions  of  the  moon. 
Imagination,  feeling  herself  for  once  unshackled, 
roamed  at  will  among  the  ever-changing  wonders  of 


86          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

a  shadowy  and  unstable  land.  Now  there  were 
hoary  and  time-honored  forests,  and  craggy  preci 
pices,  and  waterfalls  tumbling  with  a  loud  noise 
into  abysses  without  a  bottom.  Then  I  came  sud 
denly  into  still  noonday  solitudes,  where  no  wind 
of  heaven  ever  intruded,  and  where  vast  meadows 
of  poppies,  and  slender,  lily-looking  flowers  spread 
themselves  out  a  weary  distance,  all  silent  and  mo 
tionless  forever.  Then  again  I  journeyed  far  down 
away  into  another  country  where  it  was  all  one  dim 
and  vague  lake,  with  a  boundary  line  of  clouds. 
But  fancies  such  as  these  were  not  the  sole  pos 
sessors  of  my  brain.  Horrors  of  a  nature  most  stern 
and  most  appalling  would  too  frequently  obtrude 
themselves  upon  my  mind,  and  shake  the  innermost 
depths  of  my  soul  with  the  bare  supposition  of  their 
possibility.  Yet  I  would  not  suffer  my  thoughts 
for  any  length  of  time  to  dwell  upon  these  latter 
speculations,  rightly  judging  the  real  and  palpable 
dangers  of  the  voyage  sufficient  for  my  undivided 
attention. 

"At  five  o'clock,  P.M.,  being  engaged  in  regener 
ating  the  atmosphere  within  the  chamber,  I  took  that 
opportunity  of  observing  the  cat  and  kittens  through 
the  valve.  The  cat  herself  appeared  to  suffer  again 
very  much,  and  I  had  no  hesitation  in  attributing  her 
uneasiness  chiefly  to  a  difficulty  in  breathing;  but 
my  experiment  with  the  kittens  had  resulted  very 
strangely.  I  had  expected,  of  course,  to  see  them 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  87 

betray  a  sense  of  pain,  although  in  a  less  degree  than 
their  mother;  and  this  would  have  been  sufficient 
to  confirm  my  opinion  concerning  the  habitual  en 
durance  of  atmospheric  pressure.  But  I  was  not 
prepared  to  find  them,  upon  close  examination,  evi 
dently  enjoying  a  high  degree  of  health,  breathing 
with  the  greatest  ease  and  perfect  regularity,  and 
evincing  not  the  slightest  sign  of  any  uneasiness. 
I  could  only  account  for  all  this  by  extending  my 
theory,  and  supposing  that  the  highly  rarefied  at 
mosphere  around  might  perhaps  not  be,  as  I  had 
taken  for  granted,  chemically  insufficient  for  the 
purpose  of  life,  and  that  a  person  born  in  such  a 
medium  might,  possibly,  be  unaware  of  any  incon 
venience  attending  its  inhalation,  while,  upon  re 
moval  to  the  denser  strata  near  the  earth,  he  might 
endure  tortures  of  a  similar  nature  to  those  I  had 
so  lately  experienced.  It  has  since  been  to  me  a 
matter  of  deep  regret  that  an  awkward  accident,  at 
this  time,  occasioned  me  the  loss  of  my  little  fam 
ily  of  cats,  and  deprived  me  of  the  insight  into  this 
matter  which  a  continued  experiment  might  have 
afforded.  In  passing  my  hand  through  the  valve, 
with  a  cup  of  water  for  the  old  puss,  the  sleeves 
of  my  shirt  became  entangled  in  the  loop  which  sus 
tained  the  basket,  and  thus,  in  a  moment,  loosened 
it  from  the  bottom.  Had  the  whole  actually  van 
ished  into  air,  it  could  not  have  shot  from  my  sight 
in  a  more  abrupt  and  instantaneous  manner.  Posi- 


88          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

tively,  there  could  not  have  intervened  the  tenth  part 
of  a  second  between  the  disengagement  of  the  basket 
and  its  absolute  disappearance  with  all  that  it  con 
tained.  My  good  wishes  followed  it  to  the  earth, 
but,  of  course,  I  had  no  hope  that  either  cat  or  kit 
tens  would  ever  live  to  tell  the  tale  of  their  mis 
fortune. 

"At  six  o'clock,  I  perceived  a  great  portion  of  the 
earth's  visible  area  to  the  eastward  involved  in  thick 
shadow,  which  continued  to  advance  with  great 
rapidity,  until,  at  five  minutes  before  seven,  the 
whole  surface  in  view  was  enveloped  in  the  dark 
ness  of  night.  It  was  not,  however,  until  long  after 
this  time  that  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  ceased  to 
illumine  the  balloon;  and  this  circumstance,  al 
though  of  course  fully  anticipated,  did  not  fail  to 
give  me  an  infinite  deal  of  pleasure.  It  was  evident 
that,  in  the  morning,  I  should  behold  the  rising  lu 
minary  many  hours  at  least  before  the  citizens  of 
Rotterdam,  in  spite  of  their  situation,  so  much 
further  to  the  eastward,  and  thus,  day  after  day,  in 
proportion  to  the  height  ascended,  would  I  enjoy  the 
light  of  the  sun  for  a  longer  and  a  longer  period. 
I  now  determined  to  keep  a  journal  of  my  passage, 
reckoning  the  days  from  one  to  twenty-four  hours 
continuously,  without  taking  into  consideration  the 
intervals  of  darkness. 

"At  ten  o'clock,  feeling  sleepy,  I  determined  to 
lie  down  for  the  rest  of  the  night;  but  here  a  diffi- 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  89 

culty  presented  itself,  which,  obvious  as  it  may  ap 
pear,  had  escaped  my  attention  up  to  the  very  mo 
ment  of  which  I  am  now  speaking.  If  I  went  to 
sleep  as  I  proposed,  how  could  the  atmosphere  in  the 
chamber  be  regenerated  in  the  interim  ?  To  breathe 
it  for  more  than  an  hour,  at  the  furthest,  would  be 
a  matter  of  impossibility ;  or,  if  even  this  term  could 
be  extended  to  an  hour  and  a  quarter,  the  most  ruin 
ous  consequences  might  ensue.  The  consideration 
of  this  dilemma  gave  me  no  little  disquietude;  and 
it  will  hardly  be  believed,  that,  after  the  dangers  I 
had  undergone,  I  should  look  upon  this  business  in 
so  serious  a  light  as  to  give  up  all  hope  of  accom 
plishing  my  ultimate  design,  and  finally  make  up  my 
mind  to  the  necessity  of  a  descent.  But  this  hesita 
tion  was  only  momentary.  I  reflected  that  man  is 
the  veriest  slave  of  custom,  and  that  many  points  in 
the  routine  of  his  existence  are  deemed  essentially 
important,  which  are  only  so  at  all  by  his  having  ren 
dered  them  habitual.  It  was  very  certain  that  I 
could  not  do  without  sleep ;  but  I  might  easily  bring 
myself  to  feel  no  inconvenience  from  being  awak 
ened  at  intervals  of  an  hour  during  the  whole  period 
of  my  repose.  It  would  require  but  five  minutes  at 
most  to  regenerate  the  atmosphere  in  the  fullest 
manner — and  the  only  real  difficulty  was  to  contrive 
a  method  of  arousing  myself  at  the  proper  moment 
for  so  doing.  But  this  was  a  question  which,  I  am 
willing  to  confess,  occasioned  me  no  little  trouble  in 


90          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

its  solution.  To  be  sure,  I  had  heard  of  the  student 
who,  to  prevent  his  falling  asleep  over  his  books, 
held  in  one  hand  a  ball  of  copper,  the  din  of  whose 
descent  into  a  basin  of  the  same  metal  on  the  floor 
beside  his  chair,  served  effectually  to  startle  him  up, 
if,  at  any  moment,  he  should  be  overcome  with 
drowsiness.  My  own  case,  however,  was  very  dif 
ferent  indeed,  and  left  me  no  room  for  any  similar 
idea;  for  I  did  not  wish  to  keep  awake,  but  to  be 
aroused  from  slumber  at  regular  intervals  of  time. 
I  at  length  hit  upon  the  following  expedient,  which, 
simple  as  it  may  seem,  was  hailed  by  me,  at  the  mo 
ment  of  discovery,  as  an  invention  fully  equal  to  that 
of  the  telescope,  the  steam-engine,  or  the  art  of  print 
ing  itself. 

"It  is  necessary  to  premise,  that  the  balloon,  at 
the  elevation  now  attained,  continued  its  course  up 
ward  with  an  even  and  undeviating  ascent,  and  the 
car  consequently  followed  with  a  steadiness  so  per 
fect  that  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  detect  in 
it  the  slightest  vacillation.  This  circumstance  fa 
vored  me  greatly  in  the  project  I  now  determined 
to  adopt.  My  supply  of  water  had  been  put  on 
board  in  kegs  containing  five  gallons  each,  and 
ranged  very  securely  around  the  interior  of  the  car. 
I  unfastened  one  of  these,  and  taking  two  ropes,  tied 
them  tightly  across  the  rim  of  the  wicker-work  from 
one  side  to  the  other;  placing  them  about  a  foot 
apart  and  parallel,  so  as  to  form  a  kind  of  shelf, 


Adventure  of  Hans  PfaaLl  91 

upon  which  I  placed  the  keg,  and  steadied  it  in  a 
horizontal  position.  About  eight  inches  immedi 
ately  below  these  ropes,  and  four  feet  from  the  bot 
tom  of  the  car,  I  fastened  another  shelf — but  made 
of  thin  plank,  being  the  only  similar  piece  of 
wood  I  had.  Upon  this  latter  shelf,  and  exactly  be 
neath  one  of  the  rims  of  the  keg,  a  small  earthen 
pitcher  was  deposited.  I  now  bored  a  hole  in  the 
end  of  the  keg  over  the  pitcher,  and  fitted  in  a  plug 
of  soft  wood,  cut  in  a  tapering  or  conical  shape. 
This  plug  I  pushed  in  or  pulled  out,  as  might  hap 
pen,  until,  after  a  few  experiments,  it  arrived  at  that 
exact  degree  of  tightness,  at  which  the  water,  ooz 
ing  from  the  hole,  and  falling  into  the  pitcher  be 
low,  would  fill  the  latter  to  the  brim  in  the  period 
of  sixty  minutes.  This,  of  course,  was  a  matter 
briefly  and  easily  ascertained,  by  noticing  the  propor 
tion  of  the  pitcher  filled  in  any  given  time.  Hav 
ing  arranged  all  this,  the  rest  of  the  plan  is  obvi 
ous.  My  bed  was  so  contrived  upon  the  floor  of  the 
car,  as  to  bring  my  head,  in  lying  down,  immediately 
below  the  mouth  of  the  pitcher.  It  was  evident 
that,  at  the  expiration  of  an  hour,  the  pitcher,  get 
ting  full,  would  be  forced  to  run  over,  and  to  run 
over  at  the  mouth,  which  was  somewhat  lower  than 
the  rim.  It  was  also  evident,  that  the  water  thus 
falling  from  a  height  of  more  than  four  feet,  could 
not  do  otherwise  than  fall  upon  my  face,  and  that 
the  sure  consequences  would  be,  to  waken  me  up 


92  Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

instantaneously,  even  from  the  soundest  slumber  in 
the  world. 

"It  was  fully  eleven  by  the  time  I  had  completed 
these  arrangements,  and  I  immediately  betook  my 
self  to  bed,  with  full  confidence  in  the  efficiency  of 
my  invention.  Nor  in  this  matter  was  I  disap 
pointed.  Punctually  every  sixty  minutes  was  I 
aroused  by  my  trusty  chronometer,  when,  having 
emptied  the  pitcher  into  the  bung-hole  of  the  keg, 
and  performed  the  duties  of  the  condenser,  I  retired 
again  to  bed.  These  regular  interruptions  to  my 
slumber  caused  me  even  less  discomfort  than  I  had 
anticipated;  and  when  I  finally  arose  for  the  day, 
it  was  seven  o'clock,  and  the  sun  had  attained  many 
degrees  above  the  line  of  my  horizon. 

"April  3d.  I  found  the  balloon  at  an  immense 
height  indeed,  and  the  earth's  convexity  had  now 
become  strikingly  manifest.  Below  me  in  the  ocean 
lay  a  cluster  of  black  specks,  which  undoubtedly 
were  islands.  Overhead,  the  sky  was  of  a  jetty 
black,  and  the  stars  were  brilliantly  visible;  indeed, 
they  had  been  so  constantly  since  the  first  day  of 
ascent.  Far  away  to  the  northward  I  perceived  a 
thin,  white,  and  exceedingly  brilliant  line,  or  strealc, 
on  the  edge  of  the  horizon,  and  I  had  no  hesitation 
in  supposing  it  to  be  the  southern  disk  of  the  ices 
of  the  Polar  Sea.  My  curiosity  was  greatly  ex 
cited,  for  I  had  hopes  of  passing  on  much  further  to 
the  north,  and  might  possibly,  at  some  period,  find 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  93 

myself  placed  directly  above  the  Pole  itself.  I  now 
lamented  that  my  great  elevation  would,  in  this  case, 
prevent  my  taking  as  accurate  a  survey  as  I  could 
wish.  Much,  however,  might  be  ascertained. 

"Nothing  else  of  an  extraordinary  nature  oc 
curred  during  the  day.  My  apparatus  all  continued 
in  good  order,  and  the  balloon  still  ascended  without 
any  perceptible  vacillation.  The  cold  was  intense, 
and  obliged  me  to  wrap  up  closely  in  an  overcoat. 
When  darkness  came  over  the  earth,  I  betook  my 
self  to  bed,  although  it  was  for  many  hours  after 
ward  broad  daylight  all  around  my  immediate  situ 
ation.  The  water-clock  was  punctual  in  its  duty, 
and  I  slept  until  next  morning  soundly,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  the  periodical  interruption. 

"April  4th.  Arose  in  good  health  and  spirits,  and 
was  astonished  at  the  singular  change  which  had 
taken  place  in  the  appearance  of  the  sea.  It  had  lost, 
in  a  great  measure,  the  deep  tint  of  blue  it  had  hith 
erto  worn,  being  now  of  a  grayish-white,  and  of  a 
lustre  dazzling  to  the  eye.  The  convexity  of  the 
ocean  had  become  so  evident,  that  the  entire  mass 
of  the  distant  water  seemed  to  be  tumbling  head 
long  over  the  abyss  of  the  horizon,  and  I  found  my 
self  listening  on  tiptoe  for  the  echoes  of  the  mighty 
cataract.  The  islands  were  no  longer  visible; 
whether  they  had  passed  down  the  horizon  to  the 
southeast,  or  whether  my  increasing  elevation  had 
left  them  out  of  sight,  it  is  impossible  to  say.  I  was 


94  Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

inclined,  however,  to  the  latter  opinion.  The  rim 
of  ice  to  the  northward  was  growing  more  and  more 
apparent.  Cold  by  no  means  so  intense.  Nothing 
of  importance  occurred,  and  I  passed  the  day  in 
reading,  having  taken  care  to  supply  myself  with 
books. 

"April  5th.  Beheld  the  singular  phenomenon  of 
the  sun  rising  while  nearly  the  whole  visible  surface 
of  the  earth  continued  to  be  involved  in  darkness. 
In  time,  however,  the  light  spread  itself  over  all, 
and  I  again  saw  the  line  of  ice  to  the  northward.  It 
was  now  very  distinct,  and  appeared  of  a  much 
darker  hue  than  the  waters  of  the  ocean.  I  was 
evidently  approaching  it,  and  with  great  rapidity. 
Fancied  I  could  again  distinguish  a  strip  of  land  to 
the  eastward,  and  one  also  to  the  westward,  but 
could  not  be  certain.  Weather  moderate.  Noth 
ing  of  any  consequence  happened  during  the  day. 
Went  early  to  bed. 

"April  6th.  Was  surprised  at  finding  the  rim  of 
ice  at  a  very  moderate  distance,  and  an  immense 
field  of  the  same  material  stretching  away  off  to 
the  horizon  in  the  north.  It  was  evident  that  if  the 
balloon  held  its  present  course,  it  would  soon  ar 
rive  above  the  Frozen  Ocean,  and  I  had  now  little 
doubt  of  ultimately  seeing  the  Pole.  During  the 
whole  of  the  day  I  continued  to  near  the  ice.  To 
ward  night  the  limits  of  my  horizon  very  suddenly 
and  materially  increased,  owing  undoubtedly  to  the 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  95 

earth's  form  being  that  of  an  oblate  spheroid,  and 
my  arriving  above  the  flattened  regions  in  the  vicin 
ity  of  the  Arctic  Circle.  When  darkness  at  length 
overtook  me,  I  went  to  bed  in  great  anxiety,  fear 
ing  to  pass  over  the  object  of  so  much  curiosity  when 
I  should  have  no  opportunity  of  observing  it. 

"April  7th.  Arose  early,  and,  to  my  great  joy. 
at  length  beheld  what  there  could  be  no  hesitation 
in  supposing  the  northern  Pole  itself.  It  was  there. 
beyond  a  doubt,  and  immediately  beneath  my  feet; 
but,  alas !  I  had  now  ascended  to  so  vast  a  distance, 
that  nothing  could  with  accuracy  be  discerned.  In 
deed,  to  judge  from  the  progression  of  the  numbers 
indicating  my  various  altitudes,  respectively,  at  dif 
ferent  periods,  between  six  A.  M.  on  the  second  of 
April,  and  twenty  minutes  before  nine  A.  M.  of  the 
same  day  (at  which  time  the  barometer  ran  down), 
it  might  be  fairly  inferred  that  the  balloon  had  now, 
at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  April  the  sev 
enth,  reached  a  height  of  not  less,  certainly,  than 
7,254  miles  above  the  surface  of  the  sea.  This  ele 
vation  may  appear  immense,  but  the  estimate  upon 
which  it  is  calculated  gave  a  result  in  all  probability 
far  inferior  to  the  truth.  At  all  events,  I  undoubt 
edly  beheld  the  whole  of  the  earth's  major  diameter ; 
the  entire  northern  hemisphere  lay  beneath  me  like 
a  chart  orthographically  projected:  and  the  great 
circle  of  the  equator  itself  formed  the  boundary  line 
of  my  horizon.  Your  Excellencies  may,  however, 


96          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

readily  imagine  that  the  confined  regions  hitherto 
Unexplored  within  the  limits  of  the  Arctic  Circle,  al 
though  situated  directly  beneath  me,  and  therefore 
seen  without  any  appearance  of  being  foreshortened, 
were  still,  in  themselves,  comparatively  too  diminu 
tive,  and  at  too  great  a  distance  from  the  point  of 
sight,  to  admit  of  any  very  accurate  examination. 
Nevertheless,  what  could  be  seen  was  of  a  nature 
singular  and  exciting.  Northwardly  from  that 
iiuge  rim  before  mentioned,  and  which,  with  slight 
qualification,  may  be  called  the  limit  of  human  dis 
covery  in  these  regions,  one  unbroken,  or  nearly  un 
broken,  sheet  of  ice  continues  to  extend.  In  the 
first  few  degrees  of  this  its  progress,  its  surface  is 
very  sensibly  flattened,  further  on  depressed  into  a 
plane,  and  finally,  becoming  not  a  little  concave,  it 
terminates,  at  the  Pole  itself,  in  a  circular  centre, 
sharply  defined,  whose  apparent  diameter  subtended 
at  the  balloon  an  angle  of  about  sixty-five  seconds, 
and  whose  dusky  hue,  varying  in  intensity,  was,  at 
all  times,  darker  than  any  other  spot  upon  the  visi 
ble  hemisphere,  and  occasionally  deepened  into  the 
most  absolute  blackness.  Further  than  this,  little 
could  be  ascertained.  By  twelve  o'clock  the  circular 
centre  had  materially  decreased  in  circumference. 
and  by  seven  p.  M.  I  lost  sight  of  it  entirely;  the 
balloon  passing  over  the  western  limb  of  the  ice,  and 
floating  away  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  the  equator. 
"April  8th,  Found  a  sensible  diminution  in  the 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  97 

earth's  apparent  diameter,  besides  a  material  altera 
tion  in  its  general  color  and  appearance.  The  whole 
visible  area  partook  in  different  degrees  of  a  tint  of 
pale  yellow,  and  in  some  portions  had  acquired  a 
brilliancy  even  painful  to  the  eye.  My  view  down 
ward  was  also  considerably  impeded  by  the  dense 
atmosphere  in  the  vicinity  of  the  surface  being 
loaded  with  clouds,  between  whose  masses  I  could 
only  now  and  then  obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  earth  it 
self.  This  difficulty  of  direct  vision  had  troubled 
me  more  or  less  for  the  last  forty-eight  hours;  but 
my  present  enormous  elevation  brought  closer  to 
gether,  as  it  were,  the  floating  bodies  of  vapor,  and 
the  inconvenience  became,  of  course,  more  and  more 
palpable  in  proportion  to  my  ascent.  Nevertheless, 
I  could  easily  perceive  that  the  balloon  now  hov 
ered  above  the  range  of  great  lakes  in  the  continent 
of  North  America,  and  was  holding  a  course,  due 
south,  which  would  soon  bring  me  to  the  tropics. 
This  circumstance  did  not  fail  to  give  me  the  most 
heartfelt  satisfaction,  and  I  hailed  it  as  a  happy  omen 
of  ultimate  success.  Indeed,  the  direction  I  had 
hitherto  taken,  had  filled  me  with  uneasiness ;  for  it 
was  evident  that,  had  I  continued  it  much  longer, 
there  would  have  been  no  possibility  of  my  arriving 
at  the  moon  at  all,  whose  orbit  is  inclined  to  the 
ecliptic  at  only  the  small  angle  of  5  deg.  8  min.  48 
sec.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  it  was  only  at  this 
late  period  that  I  began  to  understand  the  great 

I-Poe-5 


98          Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Foe 

error  I  had  committed,  in  not  taking  my  departure 
from  earth  at  some  point  in  the  plane  of  the  lunar 
ellipse. 

"April  pth.  To-day  the  earth's  diameter  was 
greatly  diminished,  and  the  color  of  the  surface  as 
sumed  hourly  a  deeper  tint  of  yellow.  The  bal 
loon  kept  steadily  on  her  course  to  the  southward, 
and  arrived,  at  nine  P.M.,  over  the  northern  edge  of 
the  Mexican  Gulf. 

"April  loth.  I  was  suddenly  aroused  from  slum 
ber,  about  five  o'clock  this  morning,  by  a  loud, 
crackling,  and  terrific  sound,  for  which  I  could  in 
no  manner  account.  It  was  of  very  brief  duration, 
but,  while  it  lasted,  resembled  nothing  in  the  world 
of  which  I  had  any  previous  experience.  It  is  need 
less  to  say  that  I  became  excessively  alarmed,  hav 
ing,  in  the  first  instance,  attributed  the  noise  to  the 
bursting  of  the  balloon.  I  examined  all  my  appara 
tus,  however,  with  great  attention,  and  could  dis 
cover  nothing  out  of  order.  Spent  a  great  part 
of  the  day  in  meditating  upon  an  occurrence  so  ex 
traordinary,  but  could  find  no  means  whatever  of 
accounting  for  it.  Went  to  bed  dissatisfied,  and  in 
a  state  of  great  anxiety  and  agitation. 

"April  i  ith.  Found  a  startling  diminution  in  the 
apparent  diameter  of  the  earth,  and  a  considerable 
increase,  now  observable  for  the  first  time,  in  that 
of  the  moon  itself,  which  wanted  only  a  few  days  of 
being  full  It  now  required  long  and  excessive 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  99 

labor  to  condense  within  the  chamber  sufficient  at 
mospheric  air  for  the  sustenance  of  life. 

"April  1 2th.  A  singular  alteration  took  place  in 
regard  to  the  direction  of  the  balloon,  and  although 
fully  anticipated,  afforded  me  the  most  unequivocal 
delight.  Having  reached,  in  its  former  course, 
about  the  twentieth  parallel  of  southern  latitude,  it 
turned  off  suddenly,  at  an  acute  angle,  to  the  east 
ward,  and  thus  proceeded  throughout  the  day,  keep 
ing  nearly,  if  not  altogether,  in  the  exact  plane  of 
the  lunar  ellipse.  What  was  worthy  of  remark,  a 
very  perceptible  vacillation  in  the  car  was  a  conse 
quence  of  this  change  of  route — a  vacillation  which 
prevailed,  in  a  more  or  less  degree,  for  a  period  of 
many  hours. 

"April  1 3th.  Was  again  very  much  alarmed  by 
a  repetition  of  the  loud,  crackling  noise  which  terri 
fied  me  on  the  tenth.  Thought  long  upon  the  sub 
ject,  but  was  unable  to  form  any  satisfactory  con 
clusion.  Great  decrease  in  the  earth's  apparent  di 
ameter,  which  now  subtended  from  the  balloon  an 
angle  of  very  little  more  than  twenty-five  degrees. 
The  moon  could  not  be  seen  at  all,  being  nearly  in 
my  zenith.  I  still  continued  in  the  plane  of  the  el 
lipse,  but  made  little  progress  to  the  eastward. 

"April  1 4th.  Extremely  rapid  decrease  in  the 
diameter  of  the  earth.  To-day  I  became  strongly 
impressed  with  the  idea  that  the  balloon  was  now 
actually  running  up  the  line  of  apsides  to  the  point 


ioo        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

of  perigee — in  other  words,  holding  the  direct 
course  which  would  bring  it  immediately  to  the 
moon  in  that  part  of  its  orbit  the  nearest  to  the 
earth.  The  moon  itself  was  directly  overhead,  and 
consequently  hidden  from  my  view.  Great  and 
long-continued  labor  necessary  for  the  condensation 
of  the  atmosphere. 

"April  1 5th.  Not  even  the  outlines  of  continents 
and  seas  could  now  be  traced  upon  the  earth  with 
distinctness.  About  twelve  o'clock  I  became  aware, 
for  the  third  time,  of  that  appalling  sound  which 
had  so  astonished  me  before.  It  now,  however,  con 
tinued  for  some  moments,  and  gathered  intensity  as 
it  continued.  At  length,  while,  stupefied  and  terror- 
stricken,  I  stood  in  expectation  of  I  knew  not  what 
hideous  destruction,  the  car  vibrated  with  excessive 
violence,  and  a  gigantic  and  flaming  mass  of  some 
material  which  I  could  not  distinguish  came  with 
a  voice  of  a  thousand  thunders  roaring  and  boom 
ing  by  the  balloon.  When  my  fears  and  astonish 
ment  had  in  some  degree  subsided,  I  had  little  diffi 
culty  in  supposing  it  to  be  some  mighty  volcanic 
fragment  ejected  from  that  world  to  which  I  was 
so  rapidly  approaching,  and,  in  all  probability,  one 
of  that  singular  class  of  substances  occasionally 
picked  up  on  the  earth,  and  termed  meteoric  stones 
for  want  of  a  better  appellation. 

"April  1 6th.  To-day,  looking  upward  as  well  as 
I  could,  through  each  of  the  side  windows  alter- 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfstall          101 

nately,  I  beheld,  to  my  great  delight,  a  very  small 
portion  of  the  moon's  disk  protruding,  as  it  were, 
on  all  sides  beyond  the  huge  circumference  of  the 
balloon.  My  agitation  was  extreme;  for  I  had  now 
little  doubt  of  soon  reaching  the  end  of  my  perilous 
voyage.  Indeed,  the  labor  now  required  by  the  con 
denser,  had  increased  to  a  most  oppressive  degree, 
and  allowed  me  scarcely  any  respite  from  exer 
tion.  Sleep  was  a  matter  nearly  out  of  the  ques 
tion.  I  became  quite  ill,  and  my  frame  trembled 
with  exhaustion.  It  was  impossible  that  human  na 
ture  could  endure  this  state  of  intense  suffering  much 
longer.  During  the  now  brief  interval  of  darkness 
a  meteoric  stone  again  passed  in  my  vicinity,  and 
the  frequency  of  these  phenomena  began  to  occasion 
me  much  apprehension. 

"April  1 7th.  This  morning  proved  an  epoch  in 
my  voyage.  It  will  be  remembered  that,  on  the 
thirteenth,  the  earth  subtended  an  angular  breadth 
of  twenty-five  degrees.  On  the  fourteenth  this  had 
greatly  diminished;  on  the  fifteenth  a  still  more  re 
markable  decrease  was  observable;  and,  on  retiring 
on  the  night  of  the  sixteenth,  I  had  noticed  an  angle 
of  no  more  than  about  seven  degrees  and  fifteen  min 
utes.  What,  therefore,  must  have  been  my  amaze 
ment,  on  awakening  from  a  brief  and  disturbed 
slumber,  on  the  morning  of  this  day,  the  seven 
teenth,  at  finding  the  surface  beneath  me  so  suddenly 
and  wonderfully  augmented  in  volume,  as  to  sub- 


Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

tend  no  less  than  thirty-nine  degrees  in  apparent  an 
gular  diameter!  I  was  thunderstruck!  No  words 
can  give  any  adequate  idea  of  the  extreme,  the  ab 
solute  horror  and  astonishment,  with  which  I  was 
seized,  possessed,  and  altogether  overwhelmed.  My 
knees  tottered  beneath  me — my  teeth  chattered — my 
hair  started  up  on  end.  The  balloon,  then,  had  ac 
tually  burst !'  These  were  the  first  tumultuous  ideas 
that  hurried  through  my  mind:  The  balloon  had 
positively  burst! — I  was  falling — falling  with  the 
most  impetuous,  the  most  unparalleled  velocity !  To 
judge  by  the  immense  distance  already  so  quickly 
passed  over,  it  could  not  be  more  than  ten  minutes, 
at  the  furthest,  before  I  should  reach  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  and  be  hurled  into  annihilation!'  But  at 
length  reflection  came  to  my  relief.  I  paused;  I 
considered ;  and  I  began  to  doubt.  The  matter  was 
impossible.  I  could  not  in  any  reason  have  so  rap 
idly  come  down.  Besides,  although  I  was  evidently 
approaching  the  surface  below  me,  it  was  with  a 
speed  by  no  means  commensurate  with  the  velocity 
I  had  at  first  conceived.  This  consideration  served 
to  calm  the  perturbation  of  my  mind,  and  I  finally 
succeeded  in  regarding  the  phenomenon  in  its  proper 
point  of  view.  In  fact,  amazement  must  have  fairly 
deprived  me  of  my  senses,  when  I  could  not  see  the 
vast  difference,  in  appearance,  between  the  surface 
below  me,  and  the  surface  of  my  mother  earth.  The 
latter  was  indeed  over  my  head,  and  completely  hid- 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall          103 

den  by  the  balloon,  while  the  moon — the  moon  itself 
in  all  its  glory — lay  beneath  me,  and  at  my  feet. 

"The  stupor  and  surprise  produced  in  my  mind 
by  this  extraordinary  change  in  the  posture  of  af 
fairs,  was,  perhaps,  after  all,  that  part  of  the  ad 
venture  least  susceptible  of  explanation.  For  the 
bouleversement  in  itself  was  not  only  natural  and 
inevitable,  but  had  been  long  actually  anticipated  as 
a  circumstance  to  be  expected  whenever  I  should  ar 
rive  at  that  exact  point  of  my  voyage  where  the  at 
traction  of  the  planet  should  be  superseded  by  the 
attraction  of  the  satellite — or,  more  precisely,  where 
the  gravitation  of  the  balloon  toward  the  earth 
should  be  less  powerful  than  its  gravitation  toward 
the  moon.  To  be  sure,  I  arose  from  a  sound  slum 
ber,  with  all  my  senses  in  confusion,  to  the  contem 
plation  of  a  very  startling  phenomenon,  and  one 
which,  although  expected,  was  not  expected  at  the 
moment.  The  revolution  itself  must,  of  course, 
have  taken  place  in  an  easy  and  gradual  manner, 
and  it  is  by  no  means  clear  that,  had  I  even  been 
awake  at  the  time  of  the  occurrence,  I  should  have 
been  made  aware  of  it  by  an  internal  evidence  of 
an  inversion — that  is  to  say,  by  any  inconvenience 
or  disarrangement,  either  about  my  person  or  about 
my  apparatus. 

"It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that,  upon  coming 
to  a  due  sense  of  my  situation,  and  emerging  from 
the  terror  which  had  absorbed  every  faculty  of  my 


104        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

soul,  my  attention  was,  in  the  first  place,  wholly  di 
rected  to  the  contemplation  of  the  general  physical 
appearance  of  the  moon.  It  lay  beneath  me  like  a 
chart — and  although  I  judged  it  to  be  still  at  no  in 
considerable  distance,  the  indentures  of  its  surface 
were  defined  to  my  vision  with  a  most  striking  and 
altogether  unaccountable  distinctness.  The  entire 
absence  of  ocean  or  sea,  and  indeed  of  any  lake  or 
river,  or  body  of  water  whatsoever,  struck  me,  at 
first  glance,  as  the  most  extraordinary  feature  in  its 
geological  condition.  Yet,  strange  to  say,  I  beheld 
vast  level  regions  of  a  character  decidedly  alluvial, 
although  by  far  the  greater  portion  of  the  hemi 
sphere  in  sight  was  covered  with  innumerable  vol 
canic  mountains,  conical  in  shape,  and  having  more 
the  appearance  of  artificial  than  of  natural  protuber 
ances.  The  highest  among  them  does  not  exceed 
three  and  three-quarter  miles  in  perpendicular  ele 
vation;  but  a  map  of  the  volcanic  districts  of  the 
Campi  Phlegrsei  would  afford  to  your  Excellencies 
a  better  idea  of  their  general  surface  than  any  un 
worthy  description  I  might  think  proper  to  attempt. 
The  greater  part  of  them  were  in  a  state  of  evident 
eruption,  and  gave  me  fearfully  to  understand  their 
fury  and  their  power,  by  the  repeated  thunders  of 
the  miscalled  meteoric  stones,  which  now  rushed  up 
ward  by  the  balloon  with  a  frequency  more  and 
more  appalling. 

"April  1 8th.     To-day  I  found  an  enormous  in- 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall          105 

crease  in  the  moon's  apparent  bulk — and  the  evi 
dently  accelerated  velocity  of  my  descent  began  to  fill 
me  with  alarm.  It  will  be  remembered,  that,  in  the 
earliest  stage  of  my  speculations  upon  the  possibil 
ity  of  a  passage  to  the  moon,  the  existence,  in  its 
vicinity,  of  an  atmosphere,  dense  in  proportion  to 
the  bulk  of  the  planet,  had  entered  largely  into  my 
calculations;  this,  too,  in  spite  of  many  theories  to 
the  contrary,  and,  it  may  be  added,  in  spite  of  a  gen 
eral  disbelief  in  the  existence  of  any  lunar  atmos 
phere  at  all.  But,  in  addition  to  what  I  have  al 
ready  urged  in  regard  to  Encke's  comet  and  the 
zodiacal  light,  I  had  been  strengthened  in  my  opin 
ion  by  certain  observations  of  Mr.  Schroter,  of 
Lilienthal.  He  observed  the  moon  when  two  days 
and  a  half  old,  in  the  evening  soon  after  sunset,  be 
fore  the  dark  part  was  visible,  and  continued  to 
watch  it  until  it  became  visible.  The  two  cusps  ap 
peared  tapering  in  a  very  sharp,  faint  prolongation, 
each  exhibiting  its  furthest  extremity  faintly  illu 
minated  by  the  solar  rays,  before  any  part  of  the 
dark  hemisphere  was  visible.  Soon  afterward,  the 
whole  dark  limb  became  illuminated.  This  pro 
longation  of  the  cusps  beyond  the  semicircle,  I 
thought,  must  have  arisen  from  the  refraction  of  the 
sun's  rays  by  the  moon's  atmosphere.  I  computed, 
also,  the  height  of  the  atmosphere  (which  could  re 
fract  light  enough  into  its  dark  hemisphere  to  pro 
duce  a  twilight  more  luminous  than  the  light  re- 


io6         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

fleeted  from  the  earth  when  the  moon  is  about  32° 
from  the  new)  to  be  1,356  Paris  feet;  in  this  view, 
I  supposed  the  greatest  height  capable  of  refracting 
the  solar  ray,  to  be  5,376  feet.  My  ideas  on  this 
topic  had  also  received  confirmation  by  a  passage  in 
the  eighty-second  volume  of  the  'Philosophical 
Transactions/  in  which  it  is  stated,  that,  at  an  oc- 
cultation  of  Jupiter's  satellites,  the  third  disappeared 
after  having  been  about  i  sec.  or  2  sec.  of  time  indis 
tinct,  and  the  fourth  became  indiscernible  near  the 
limb.* 

"Upon  the  resistance,  or,  more  properly,  upon  the 
support  of  an  atmosphere,  existing  in  the  state  of 
density  imagined,  I  had,  of  course,  entirely  depended 
for  the  safety  of  my  ultimate  descent.  Should  I 


*Hevelius  writes  that  he  has  several  times  found,  in  skies 
perfectly  clear,  when  even  stars  of  the  sixth  and  seventh  mag 
nitude  were  conspicuous,  that,  at  the  same  altitude  of  the 
moon,  at  the  same  elongation  from  the  earth,  and  with  one  and 
the  same  excellent  telescope,  the  moon  and  its  maculae  did  not 
appear  equally  lucid  at  all  times.  From  the  circumstances  of 
the  observation,  it  is  evident  that  the  cause  of  this  phenomenon 
is  not  either  in  our  air,  in  the  tube,  in  the  moon,  or  in  the  eye 
of  the  spectator,  but  must  be  looked  for  in  something  (an 
atmosphere?)  existing  about  the  moon. 

Cassini  frequently  observed  Saturn,  Jupiter,  and  the  fixed 
stars,  when  approaching  the  moon  to  occultation,  to  have  their 
circular  figure  changed  into  an  oval  one ;  and,  in  other  occulta- 
tions,  he  found  no  alteration  of  figure  at  all.  Hence  it  might 
be  supposed,  that  at  some  times,  and  not  at  others,  there  is  a 
dense  matter  encompassing  the  moon  wherein  the  rays  of  the 
stars  are  refracted. 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall          107 

then,  after  all,  prove  to  have  been  mistaken,  I  had  in 
consequence  nothing  better  to  expect,  as  a  finale  to 
my  adventure,  than  being  dashed  into  atoms  against 
the  rugged  surface  of  the  satellite.  And,  indeed, 
I  had  now  every  reason  to  be  terrified.  My  dis 
tance  from  the  moon  was  comparatively  trifling, 
while  the  labor  required  by  the  condenser  was  di 
minished  not  at  all,  and  I  could  discover  no  indica 
tion  whatever  of  a  decreasing  rarity  in  the  air. 

"April  iQth.  This  morning,  to  my  great  joy, 
about  nine  o'clock,  the  surface  of  the  moon  being 
frightfully  near,  and  my  apprehension  excited  to  the 
utmost,  the  pump  of  my  condenser  at  length  gave 
evident  tokens  of  an  alteration  in  the  atmosphere. 
By  ten,  I  had  reason  to  believe  its  density  consider 
ably  increased.  By  eleven,  very  little  labor  was 
necessary  at  the  apparatus;  and  at  twelve  o'clock, 
with  some  hesitation,  I  ventured  to  unscrew  the 
tourniquet,  when,  finding  no  inconvenience  from 
having  done  so,  I  finally  threw  open  the  gum-elastic 
chamber,  and  unrigged  it  from  around  the  car.  As 
might  have  been  expected,  spasms  and  violent  head 
ache  were  the  immediate  consequences  of  an  ex 
periment  so  precipitate  and  full  of  danger.  But 
these  and  other  difficulties  attending  respiration,  as 
they  were  by  no  means  so  great  as  to  put  me  in 
peril  of  my  life,  I  determined  to  endure  as  I  best 
could,  in  consideration  of  my  leaving  them  behind  me 
momently  in  my  approach  to  the  denser  strata  near 


io8         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

the  moon.  This  approach,  however,  was  still  im 
petuous  in  the  extreme;  and  it  soon  became  alarm 
ingly  certain  that,  although  I  had  probably  not  been 
deceived  in  the  expectation  of  an  atmosphere  dense 
in  proportion  to  the  mass  of  the  satellite,  still  I  had 
been  wrong  in  supposing  this  density,  even  at  the 
surface,  at  all  adequate  to  the  support  of  the  great 
weight  contained  in  the  car  of  my  balloon.  Yet 
this  should  have  been  the  case,  and  in  an  equal 
degree  as  at  the  surface  of  the  earth,  the  actual  grav 
ity  of  bodies  at  either  planet  supposed  in  the  ratio 
of  the  atmospheric  condensation.  That  it  was  not 
the  case,  however,  my  precipitous  downfall  gave 
testimony  enough;  why  it  was  not  so,  can  only  be 
explained  by  a  reference  to  those  possible  geological 
disturbances  to  which  I  have  formerly  alluded.  At 
all  events,  I  was  now  close  upon  the  planet,  and  com 
ing  down  with  the  most  terrible  impetuosity.  I  lost 
not  a  moment,  accordingly,  in  throwing  overboard 
first  my  ballast,  then  my  water-kegs,  then  my  con 
densing  apparatus  and  gum-elastic  chamber,  and 
finally  every  article  within  the  car.  But  it  was  all  to 
no  purpose.  I  still  fell  with  horrible  rapidity,  and 
was  now  not  more  than  half  a  mile  from  the  sur 
face.  As  a  last  resource,  therefore,  having  got  rid 
of  my  coat,  hat,  and  boots,  I  cut  loose  from  the  bal 
loon  the  car  itself,  which  was  of  no  inconsiderable 
weight,  and  thus,  clinging  with  both  hands  to  the 
network,  I  had  barely  time  to  observe  that  the 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall          109 

whole  country,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  was 
thickly  interspersed  with  diminutive  habitations,  ere 
I  tumbled  headlong  into  the  very  heart  of  a  fantas 
tical-looking  city,  and  into  the  middle  of  a  vast 
crowd  of  ugly  little  people,  who  none  of  them  ut 
tered  a  single  syllable,  or  gave  themselves  the  least 
trouble  to  render  me  assistance,  but  stood,  like  a 
parcel  of  idiots,  grinning  in  a  ludicrous  manner,  and 
eying  me  and  my  balloon  askant,  with  their  arms  set 
a-kimbo.  I  turned  from  them  in  contempt,  and, 
gazing  upward  at  the  earth  so  lately  left,  and  left 
perhaps  forever,  beheld  it  like  a  huge,  dull,  copper 
shield,  about  two  degrees  in  diameter,  fixed  immov 
ably  in  the  heavens  overhead,  and  tipped  on  one  of 
its  edges  with  a  crescent  border  of  the  most  brilliant 
gold.  No  traces  of  land  or  water  could  be  discov 
ered,  and  the  whole  was  clouded  with  variable  spots, 
and  belted  with  tropical  and  equatorial  zones. 

"Thus,  may  it  please  your  Excellencies,  after  a 
series  of  great  anxieties,  unheard-of  dangers,  and 
unparalleled  escapes,  I  had,  at  length,  on  the  nine 
teenth  day  of  my  departure  from  Rotterdam,  arrived 
in  safety  at  the  conclusion  of  a  voyage  undoubtedly 
the  most  extraordinary,  and  the  most  momentous, 
ever  accomplished,  undertaken,  or  conceived  by  any 
denizen  of  earth.  But  my  adventures  yet  remain  to 
be  related.  And  indeed  your  Excellencies  may  well 
imagine  that,  after  a  residence  of  five  years  upon  a 
planet  not  only  deeply  interesting  in  its  own  pecul- 


no        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

iar  character,  but  rendered  doubly  so  by  its  intimate 
connection,  in  capacity  of  satellite,  with  the  world 
inhabited  by  man,  I  may  have  intelligence  for  the 
private  ear  of  the  States'  College  of  Astronomers  of 
far  more  importance  than  the  details,  however  won 
derful,  of  the  mere  voyage  which  so  happily  con 
cluded.  This  is,  in  fact,  the  case.  I  have  much — 
very  much  which  it  would  give  me  the  greatest  pleas 
ure  to  communicate.  I  have  much  to  say  of  the 
climate  of  the  planet;  of  its  wonderful  alternations 
of  heat  and  cold;  of  unmitigated  and  burning  sun 
shine  for  one  fortnight,  and  more  than  polar  frigid 
ity  for  the  next;  of  a  constant  transfer  of  moisture, 
by  distillation  like  that  in  vacuo,  from  the  point  be 
neath  the  sun  to  the  point  the  furthest  from  it ;  of  a 
variable  zone  of  running  water ;  of  the  people  them 
selves ;  of  their  manners,  customs,  and  political  in 
stitutions;  of  their  peculiar  physical  construction; 
of  their  ugliness ;  of  their  want  of  ears,  those  useless 
appendages  in  an  atmosphere  so  peculiarly  modified ; 
of  their  consequent  ignorance  of  the  use  and  proper 
ties  of  speech;  of  their  substitute  for  speech  in  a 
singular  method  of  inter-communication;  of  the  in 
comprehensible  connection  between  each  particular 
individual  in  the  moon  with  some  particular  indi 
vidual  on  the  earth — a  connection  analogous  with, 
and  depending  upon,  that  of  the  orbs  of  the  planet 
and  the  satellite,  and  by  means  of  which  the  lives  and 
destinies  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  one  are  interwoven 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall          in 

with  the  lives  and  destinies  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
other;  and  above  all,  if  it  so  please  your  Excellen 
cies — above  all,  of  those  dark  and  hideous  mysteries 
which  lie  in  the  outer  regions  of  the  moon — regions 
which,  owing  to  the  almost  miraculous  accordance 
of  the  satellite's  rotation  on  its  own  axis  with  its 
sidereal  revolution  about  the  earth,  have  never  yet 
been  turned,  and,  by  God's  mercy,  never  shall  be 
turned,  to  the  scrutiny  of  the  telescopes  of  man.  All 
this,  and  more — much  more — would  1  most  will 
ingly  detail.  But,  to  be  brief,  I  must  have  my  re 
ward.  I  am  pining  for  a  return  to  my  family  and 
to  my  home;  and  as  the  price  of  any  further  com 
munication  on  my  part — in  consideration  of  the 
light  which  I  have  it  in  my  power  to  throw  upon 
many  very  important  branches  of  physical  and  meta 
physical  science — I  must  solicit,  through  the  influ 
ence  of  your  honorable  body,  a  pardon  for  the  crime 
of  which  I  have  been  guilty  in  the  death  of  the  cred 
itors  upon  my  departure  from  Rotterdam.  This, 
then,  is  the  object  of  the  present  paper.  Its  bearer, 
an  inhabitant  of  the  moon,  whom  I  have  prevailed 
upon,  and  properly  instructed,  to  be  my  messenger 
to  the  earth,  will  await  your  Excellencies'  pleasure, 
and  return  to  me  with  the  pardon  in  question,  if  it 
can,  in  any  manner,  be  obtained. 

"I  have  the  honor  to  be,  etc.,  your  Excellencies' 
very  humble  servant, 

"HANS  PFAALL." 


ii2        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

Upon  finishing  the  perusal  of  this  very  extra 
ordinary  document,  Professor  Rubadub,  it  is  said, 
dropped  his  pipe  upon  the  ground  in  the  extremity 
of  his  surprise,  and  Mynheer  Superbus  Von  Under- 
duk  having  taken  off  his  spectacles,  wiped  them,  and 
deposited  them  in  his  pocket,  so  far  forgot  both  him 
self  and  his  dignity,  as  to  turn  round  three  times 
jupon  his  heel  in  the  quintessence  of  astonishment 
and  admiration.  There  was  no  doubt  about  the  mat 
ter — the  pardon  should  be  obtained.  So  at  least 
swore,  with  a  round  oath,  Professor  Rubadub,  and 
so  finally  thought  the  illustrious  Von  Underduk,  as 
he  took  the  arm  of  his  brother  in  science,  and  with 
out  saying  a  word,  began  to  make  the  best  of  his 
way  home  to  deliberate  upon  the  measures  to  be 
adopted.  Having  reached  the  door,  however,  of  the 
burgomaster's  dwelling,  the  professor  ventured  to 
suggest  that  as  the  messenger  had  thought  proper  to 
disappear — no  doubt  frightened  to  death  by  the  sav 
age  appearance  of  the  burghers  of  Rotterdam — the 
pardon  would  be  of  little  use,  as  no  one  but  a  man  of 
the  moon  would  undertake  a  voyage  to  so  vast  a 
distance.  To  the  truth  of  this  observation  the  bur 
gomaster  assented,  and  the  matter  was  therefore  at 
an  end.  Not  so,  however,  rumors  and  speculations. 
The  letter,  having  been  published,  gave  rise  to  a 
variety  of  gossip  and  opinion.  Some  of  the  over- 
wise  even  made  themselves  ridiculous  by  decrying 
the  whole  business  as  nothing  better  than  a  hoax. 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  113 

But  hoax,  with  these  sort  of  people,  is,  I  believe, 
a  general  term  for  all  matters  above  their  compre 
hension.  For  my  part,  I  cannot  conceive  upon  what 
data  they  have  founded  such  an  accusation.  Let  us 
see  what  they  say : 

Imprimis.  That  certain  wags  in  Rotterdam  have 
certain  especial  antipathies  to  certain  burgomasters 
and  astronomers. 

Secondly.  That  an  odd  little  dwarf  and  bottle 
conjurer,  both  of  whose  ears,  for  some  misde 
meanor,  have  been  cut  off  close  to  his  head,  had 
been  missing  for  several  days  from  the  neighboring 
city  of  Bruges. 

Thirdly.  That  the  newspapers  which  were  stuck 
all  over  the  little  balloon  were  newspapers  of  Hol 
land,  and  therefore  could  not  have  been  made  in 
the  moon.  They  were  dirty  papers — very  dirty — 
and  Gluck,  the  printer,  would  take  his  bible  oath 
to  their  having  been  printed  in  Rotterdam. 

Fourthly.  That  Hans  Pfaall  himself,  the  drunken 
villain,  and  the  three  very  idle  gentlemen  styled  his 
creditors,  were  all  seen,  no  longer  than  two  or  three 
days  ago,  in  a  tippling  house  in  the  suburbs,  'having 
just  returned,  with  money  in  their  pockets,  from  a 
trip  beyond  the  sea. 

Lastly.  That  it  is  an  opinion  very  generally  re 
ceived,  or  which  ought  to  be  generally  received,  that 
the  College  of  Astronomers  in  the  city  of  Rotter 
dam,  as  well  as  all  other  colleges  in  all  other  parts 


H4        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

of  the  world — not  to  mention  colleges  and  astrono 
mers  in  general — are,  to  say  the  least  of  the  matter, 
not  a  whit  better,  nor  greater,  nor  wiser  than  they 
ought  to  be. 


NOTE — Strictly  speaking,  there  is  but  little  similarity  be 
tween  the  above  sketchy  trifle  and  the  celebrated  "Moon- 
Story"  of  Mr.  Locke ;  but  as  both  have  the  character  of  hoaxes 
(although  the  one  is  in  a  tone  of  banter,  the  other  of  down 
right  earnest),  and  as  both  hoaxes  are  on  the  same  subject, 
the  moon— moreover,  as  both  attempt  to  give  plausibility  by 
scientific  detail — the  author  of  "Hans  Pfaall"  thinks  it  neces 
sary  to  say,  in  self-defence,  that  his  own  jeu  d'esprit  was 
published  in  the  "Southern  Literary  Messenger"  about  three 
weeks  before  the  commencement  of  Mr.  L.'s  in  the  "New 
York  Sun."  Fancying  a  likeness  which,  perhaps,  does  not 
exist,  some  of  the  New  York  papers  copied  "Hans  Pfaall," 
and  collated  it  with  the  "Moon-Hoax,"  by  way  of  detecting 
the  writer  of  the  one  in  the  writer  of  the  other. 

As  many  more  persons  were  actually  gulled  by  the  "Moon- 
Hoax"  than  would  be  willing  to  acknowledge  the  fact,  it 
may  here  afford  some  little  amusement  to  show  why  no  one 
should  have  been  deceived — to  point  out  those  particulars  of 
the  story  which  should  have  been  sufficient  to  establish  its 
real  character.  Indeed,  however  rich  the  imagination  dis 
played  in  this  ingenious  fiction,  it  wanted  much  of  the  force 
which  might  have  been  given  it  by  a  more  scrupulous  attention 
to  facts  and  to  general  analogy.  That  the  public  were  misled, 
even  for  an  instant,  merely  proves  the  gross  ignorance  which 
is  so  generally  prevalent  upon  subjects  of  an  astronomical 
nature. 

The  moon's  distance  from  the  earth  is,  in  round  numbers, 
240,000  miles.  If  we  desire  to  ascertain  how  near,  apparently, 
a  lens  would  bring  the  satellite  (or  any  distant  object),  we, 
of  course,  have  but  to  divide  the  distance  by  the  magnifying 
or,  more  strictly,  by  the  space-penetrating  power  of  the  glass. 
Mr.  L.  makes  his  lens  have  a  power  of  42,000  times.  By  this 
divide  240,000  (the  moon's  real  distance),  and  we  have  five 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  115 

miles  and  five  sevenths,  as  the  apparent  distance.  No  animal 
at  all  could  be  seen  so  far;  much  less  the  minute  points  par 
ticularized  in  the  story.  Mr.  L.  speaks  about  Sir  John  Her- 
schel's  perceiving  flowers  (the  Papaver  rheas,  etc.),  and  even 
detecting  the  color  and  the  shape  of  the  eyes  of  small  birds. 
Shortly  before,  too,  he  has  himself  observed  that  the  lens 
would  not  render  perceptible  objects  of  less  than  eighteen 
inches  in  diameter;  but  even  this,  as  I  have  said,  is  giving 
the  glass  by  far  too  great  power.  It  may  be  observed,  in  pass 
ing,  that  this  prodigious  glass  is  said  to  have  been  molded 
at  the  glasshouse  of  Messrs.  Hartley  and  Grant,  in  Dumbar 
ton;  but  Messrs.  H.  and  G.'s  establishment  had  ceased  opera 
tions  for  many  years  previous  to  the  publication  of  the  hoax. 

On  page  13,  pamphlet  edition,  speaking  of  "a  hairy  veil" 
over  the  eyes  of  a  species  of  bison,  the  author  says:  "It  im 
mediately  occurred  to  the  acute  mind  of  Dr.  Herschel  that  this 
was  a  providential  contrivance  to  protect  the  eyes  of  the  ani 
mal  from  the  great  extremes  of  light  and  darkness  to  which 
all  the  inhabitants  of  our  side  of  the  moon  are  periodically 
subjected."  But  this  cannot  be  thought  a  very  "acute"  ob 
servation  of  the  Doctor's.  The  inhabitants  of  our  side  of  the 
moon  have,  evidently,  no  darkness  at  all,  so  there  can  be  noth 
ing  of  the  "extremes"  mentioned.  In  the  absence  of  the  sun 
they  have  a  light  from  the  earth  equal  to  that  of  thirteen  full 
unclouded  moons. 

The  topography  throughout,  even  when  professing  to  ac 
cord  with  Blunt's  Lunar  Chart,  is  entirely  at  variance  with 
that  or  any  other  lunar  chart,  and  even  grossly  at  variance 
with  itself.  The  points  of  the  compass,  too,  are  in  inextricable 
confusion;  the  writer  appearing  to  be  ignorant  that,  on  a 
lunar  map,  these  are  not  in  accordance  with  terrestrial  points ; 
the  east  being  to  the  left,  etc. 

Deceived,  perhaps,  by  the  vague  titles,  Mare  Nubium,  Mare 
Tranquillitatis,  Mare  Fsecunditatis,  etc.,  given  to  the  dark  spots 
by  former  astronomers,  Mr.  L.  has  entered  into  details  re 
garding  oceans  and  other  large  bodies  of  water  in  the  moon; 
whereas  there  is  no  astronomical  point  more  positively  ascer 
tained  than  that  no  such  bodies  exist  there.  In  examining  the 
boundary  between  light  and  darkness  (in  the  crescent  or  gib 
bous  moon)  where  this  boundary  crosses  any  of  the,  dark 


n6        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

places,  the  line  of  division  is  found  to  be  rough  and  jagged; 
but,  were  these  dark  places  liquid,  it  would  evidently  be  even. 

The  description  of  the  wings  of  the  man-bat,  on  page  21,  is 
but  a  literal  copy  of  Peter  Wilkins'  account  of  the  wings  of 
his  flying  islanders.  This  simple  fact  should  have  induced 
suspicion,  at  least,  it  might  be  thought. 

On  page  23,  we  have  the  following:  "What  a  prodigious  in 
fluence  must  our  thirteen  times  larger  globe  have  exercised 
upon  this  satellite  when  an  embryo  in  the  womb  of  time,  the 
passive  subject  of  chemical  affinity!"  This  is  very  fine;  but  it 
should  be  observed  that  no  astronomer  would  have  made  such 
remark,  especially  to  any  Journal  of  Science;  for  the  earth, 
in  the  sense  intended,  is  not  only  thirteen,  but  forty-nine  times 
larger  than  the  moon.  A  similar  objection  applies  to  the 
whole  of  the  concluding  pages,  where,  by  way  of  introduction 
to  some  discoveries  in  Saturn,  the  philosophical  correspond 
ent  enters  into  a  minute  schoolboy  account  of  that  planet — 
this  to  the  "Edinburgh  Journal  of  Science!" 

But  there  is  one  point,  in  particular,  which  should  have 
betrayed  the  fiction.  Let  us  imagine  the  power  actually  pos 
sessed  of  seeing  animals  upon  the  moon's  surface — what  would 
•first  arrest  the  attention  of  an  observer  from  the  earth?  Cer 
tainly  neither  their  shape,  size,  nor  any  other  such  peculiarity, 
so  soon  as  their  remarkable  situation.  They  would  appear  to 
be  walking,  with  heels  up  and  head  down,  in  the  manner  of 
flies  on  a  ceiling.  The  real  observer  would  have  uttered  an 
instant  ejaculation  of  surprise  (however  prepared  by  pre 
vious  knowledge)  at  the  singularity  of  their  position;  the 
•fictitious  observer  has  not  even  mentioned  the  subject,  but 
speaks  of  seeing  the  entire  bodies  of  such  creatures,  when  it 
is  demonstrable  that  he  could  have  seen  only  the  diameter  of 
their  heads! 

It  might  as  well  be  remarked,  in  conclusion,  that  the  size, 
and  particularly  the  powers  of  the  man-bats  (for  example, 
their  ability  to  fly  in  so  rare  an  atmosphere— if,  indeed,  the 
moon  have  any),  with  most  of  the  other  fancies  in  regard  to 
animal  and  vegetable  existence,  are  at  variance,  generally,  with 
all  analogical  reasoning  on  these  themes;  and  that  analogy 
here  will  often  amount  to  conclusive  demonstration.  It  is, 
perhaps,  scarcely  necessary  to  add,  that  all  the  suggestions  at- 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall  117 

tributed  to  Brewster  and  Herschel,  in  the  beginning  of  the 
article,  about  "a  transfusion  of  artificial  light  through  the 
focal  object  of  vision,"  etc.,  etc.,  belong  to  that  species  of 
figurative  writing  which  comes,  most  properly,  under  the  de 
nomination  of  rigmarole. 

There  is  a  real  and  very  definite  limit  to  optical  discovery 
among  the  stars — a  limit  whose  nature  need  only  be  stated  to 
be  understood.  If,  indeed,  the  casting  of  large  lenses  were 
all  that  is  required,  man's  ingenuity  would  ultimately  prove 
equal  to  the  task,  and  we  might  have  them  of  any  size  de 
manded.  But,  unhappily,  in  proportion  to  the  increase  of  size 
in  the  lens,  and  consequently  of  space-penetrating  power,  is  the 
diminution  of  light  from  the  object,  by  diffusion  of  its  rays. 
And  for  this  evil  there  is  no  remedy  within  human  ability ;  for 
an  object  is  seen  by  means  of  that  light  alone  which  proceeds 
from  itself,  whether  direct  or  reflected.  Thus  the  only  "arti 
ficial"  light  which  could  avail  Mr.  Locke,  would  be  some 
artificial  light  which  he  should  be  able  to  throw — not  upon 
the  "focal  object  of  vision,"  but  upon  the  real  object  to  be 
viewed — to  wit :  upon  the  moon.  It  has  been  easily  calculated 
that,  when  the  light  proceeding  from  a  star  becomes  so  dif 
fused  as  to  be  as  weak  as  the  natural  light  proceeding  from 
the  whole  of  the  stars,  in  a  clear  and  moonless  night,  then 
the  star  is  no  longer  visible  for  any  practical  purpose. 

The  Earl  of  Ross's  telescope,  lately  constructed  in  England, 
has  a  speculum  with  a  reflecting  surface  of  4,071  square 
inches;  the  Herschel  telescope  having  one  of  only  1,811.  The 
metal  of  the  Earl  of  Ross's  is  6  feet  diameter;  it  is  5^  inches 
thick  at  the  edges,  and  5  at  the  centre.  The  weight  is  3  tons. 
The  focal  length  is  50  feet. 

I  have  lately  read  a  singular  and  somewhat  ingenious  little 
book,  whose  title-page  runs  thus:  "L'Homme  dans  la  Ivne,  ou 
le  Voyage  Chimerique  fait  au  Monde  de  la  Lvne,  nouuelle- 
ment  decouuert  par  Dominique  Gonzales,  Aduanturier  Es- 
pagnol,  autremet  dit  le  Courier  volant.  Mis  en  notre  langve 
par  J.  B.  D.  A.  Paris,  chez  Francois  Piot,  pres  la  Fontaine  de 
Saint  Benoist.  Et  chez  J.  Goignard,  au  premier  pilier  de  la 
grand'salle  du  Palais,  proche  les  Consultations,  MDCXLVII." 
Pp.  176. 

The  writer  professes  to  have  translated  his  work  from  the 


ii8        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

English  of  one  Mr.  D'Avisson  (Davidson?)  although  there 
is  a  terrible  ambiguity  in  the  statement.  "I*  en  ai  eu,"  says 
he  'Toriginal  de  Monsieur  D'Avisson,  medecin  des  mieux 
versez  qui  soient  aujourd'huy  dans  la  conoissance  des  Belles 
Lettres,  et  sur  tout  de  la  Philosophic  Naturelle.  Je  lui  ai 
cette  obligation  entre  les  autres,  de  m'  auoir  non  seulement 
mis  en  main  ce  Livre  en  anglois,  mais  encore  le  Manuscrit  du 
Sieur  Thomas  D'Anan,  gentilhomme  Eccossois,  recommand- 
able  pour  sa  vertu,  sur  la  version  duquel  j'  advoue  que  j'  ay 
tire  le  plan  de  la  mienne." 

After  some  irrelevant  adventures,  much  in  the  manner  of 
Gil  Bias,  and  which  occupy  the  first  thirty  pages,  the  author 
relates  that,  being  ill  during  a  sea  voyage,  the  crew  abandoned 
him,  together  with  a  negro  servant,  on  the  island  of  St. 
Helena.  To  increase  the  chances  of  obtaining  food,  the  two 
separate,  and  live  as  far  apart  as  possible.  This  brings  about 
a  training  of  birds,  to  serve  the  purpose  of  carrier-pigeons  be 
tween  them.  By  and  by  these  are  taught  to  carry  parcels  of 
some  weight — and  this  weight  is  gradually  increased.  At 
length  the  idea  is  entertained  of  uniting  the  force  of  a  great 
number  of  the  birds,  with  a  view  to  raising  the  author  him 
self.  A  machine  is  contrived  for  the  purpose,  and  we  have  a 
minute  description  of  it,  which  is  materially  helped  out  by  a 
steel  engraving.  Here  we  perceive  the  Signer  Gonzales,  with 
point  ruffles  and  a  huge  periwig,  seated  astride  something 
which  resembles  very  closely  a  broomstick,  and  borne  aloft  by 
a  multitude  of  wild  swans  (ganzas)  who  had  strings  reaching 
from  their  tails  to  the  machine. 

The  main  event  detailed  in  the  Signer's  narrative  depends 
upon  a  very  important  fact,  of  which  the  reader  is  kept  in 
ignorance  until  near  the  end  of  the  book.  The  ganzas,  with 
whom  he  had  become  so  familiar,  were  not  really  denizens 
of  St.  Helena,  but  of  the  moon.  Thence  it  had  been  their  cus 
tom,  time  out  of  mind,  to  migrate  annually  to  some  portion  of 
the  earth.  In  proper  season,  of  course,  they  would  return 
home;  and  the  author,  happening,  one  day,  to  require  their 
services  for  a  short  voyage,  is  unexpectedly  carried  straight 
up,  and  in  a  very  brief  period  arrives  at  the  satellite.  Here  he 
finds,  among  other  odd  things,  that  the  people  enjoy  extreme 
happiness;  that  they  have  no  law;  that  they  die  without  pain; 


Adventure  of  Hans  Pfaall          119 

that  they  are  from  ten  to  thirty  feet  in  height;  that  they  live 
five  thousand  years;  that  they  have  an  emperor  called  Irdono- 
zur;  and  that  they  can  jump  sixty  feet  high,  when,  being  out 
of  the  gravitating  influence,  they  fly  about  with  fans. 

I  cannot  forbear  giving  a  specimen  of  the  general  philoso 
phy  of  the  volume. 

"I  must  not  forget  here,  that  the  stars  appeared  only  on 
that  side  of  the  globe  turned  toward  the  moon,  and  that  the 
closer  they  were  to  it  the  larger  they  seemed.  I  have  also 
me  and  the  earth.  As  to  the  stars,  since  there  was  no  night 
where  I  was,  they  always  had  the  same  appearance;  not 
brilliant,  as  usual,  but  pale,  and  very  nearly  like  the  moon 
of  a  morning.  But  few  of  them  were  visible,  and  these  ten 
times  larger  (as  well  as  I  could  judge)  than  they  seem  to  the 
inhabitants  of  the  earth.  The  moon,  which  wanted  two  days 
of  being  full,  was  of  a  terrible  bigness. 

"I  must  not  forget  here,  that  the  stars  appeared  only  on 
that  side  of  the  globe  turned  toward  the  moon,  and  that  the 
closer  they  were  to  it  the  larger  they  seemed.  I  have  also 
to  inform  you  that,  whether  it  was  calm  weather  or  stormy, 
I  found  myself  always  immediately  between  the  moon  and 
the  earth.  I  was  convinced  of  this  for  two  reasons — because 
my  birds  always  flew  in  a  straight  line;  and  because  whenever 
we  attempted  to  rest,  we  were  carried  insensibly  around  the 
globe  of  the  earth.  For  I  admit  the  opinion  of  Copernicus, 
who  maintains  that  it  never  ceases  to  revolve  from  the  east  to 
the  west,  not  upon  the  poles  of  the  Equinoctial,  commonly 
called  the  poles  of  the  world,  but  upon  those  of  the  Zodiac,  a 
question  of  which  I  propose  to  speak  more  at  length  here 
after,  when  I  shall  have  leisure  to  refresh  my  memory  in  re 
gard  to  the  astrology  which  I  learned  at  Salamanca  when 
young,  and  have  since  forgotten." 

Notwithstanding  the  blunders  italicized,  the  book  is  not 
without  some  claim  to  attention,  as  affording  a  naive  speci 
men  of  the  current  astronomical  notions  of  the  time.  One  of 
these  assumed,  that  the  "gravitating  power"  extended  but  a 
short  distance  from  the  earth's  surface,  and,  accordingly,  we 
find  our  voyager  "carried  insensibly  around  the  globe,"  etc. 

There  have  been  other  "voyages  to  the  moon,"  but  none  of 
higher  merit  than  the  one  just  mentioned.  That  of  Bergerac 


120        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

as  utterly  meaningless.  In  the  third  volume  of  the  "Ameri 
can  Quarterly  Review"  will  be  found  quite  an  elaborate  criti 
cism  upon  a  certain  "journey"  of  the  kind  in  question — a  criti 
cism  in  which  it  is  difficult  to  say  whether  the  critic  most 
exposes  the  stupidity  of  the  book,  or  his  own  absurd  igno 
rance  of  astronomy.  I  forget  the  title  of  the  work;  but  the 
means  of  the  voyage  are  more  deplorably  ill  conceived  than 
are  even  the  ganzas  of  our  friend  the  Signer  Gonzales.  The 
adventurer,  in  digging  the  earth,  happens  to  discover  a  pecul 
iar  metal  for  which  the  moon  has  a  strong  attraction,  and 
straightway  constructs  of  it  a  box,  which,  when  cast  loose 
from  its  terrestrial  fastenings,  flies  with  him,  forthwith,  to 
the  satellite.  The  "Flight  of  Thomas  O'Rourke,"  is  a  jeu  d' 
esprit  not  altogether  contemptible,  and  has  been  translated 
into  German.  Thomas,  the  hero,  was,  in  fact,  the  game 
keeper  of  an  Irish  peer,  whose  eccentricities  gave  rise  to  the 
tale.  The  "flight"  is  made  on  an  eagle's  back,  from  Hungry 
Hill,  a  lofty  mountain  at  the  end  of  Bantry  Bay. 

In  these  various  brochures  the  aim  is  always  satirical;  the 
theme  being  a  description  of  Lunarian  customs  as  compared 
with  ours.  In  none  is  there  any  effort  at  plausibility  in  the 
details  of  the  voyage  itself.  The  writers  seem,  in  each  in 
stance,  to  be  utterly  uninformed  in  respect  to  astronomy.  In 
"Hans  Pfaall"  the  design  is  original,  inasmuch  as  regards  an 
attempt  at  verisimilitude,  in  the  application  of  scientific  princi 
ples  (so  far  as  the  whimsical  nature  of  the  subject  would 
permit),  to  the  actual  passage  between  the  earth  and  the 
moon. 


THE  GOLD-BUG 

What  ho!  what  ho!  this  fellow  is  dancing  mad! 
He  hath  been  bitten  by  the  Tarantula. 

— All  in  the  Wrong 

MANY  years  ago,  I  contracted  an  intimacy  with  a 
Mr.  William  Legrand.  He  was  of  an  an 
cient  Huguenot  family,  and  had  once  been  wealthy ; 
but  a  series  of  misfortunes  had  reduced  him  to  want. 
To  avoid  the  mortification  consequent  upon  his  dis 
asters,  he  left  New  Orleans,  the  city  of  his  fore 
fathers,  and  took  up  his  residence  at  Sullivan's  Isl 
and,  near  Charleston,  South  Carolina. 

This  island  is  a  very  singular  one.  It  consists  of 
little  else  than  the  sea  sand,  and  is  about  three  miles 
long.  Its  breadth  at  no  point  exceeds  a  quarter  of 
a  mile.  It  is  separated  from  the  mainland  by  a 
scarcely  perceptible  creek,  oozing  its  way  through 
a  wilderness  of  reeds  and  slime,  a  favorite  resort  of 
the  marsh-hen.  The  vegetation,  as  might  be  sup 
posed,  is  scant,  or  at  least  dwarfish.  No  trees  of 
any  magnitude  are  to  be  seen.  Near  the  western 
extremity,  where  Fort  Moultrie  stands,  and  where 
are  some  miserable  frame  buildings,  tenanted,  dur 
ing  summer,  by  the  fugitives  from  Charleston  dust 
and  fever,  may  be  found,  indeed,  the  bristly  pal 
metto;  but  the  whole  island,  with  the  exception  of 

I-Poe-6  (I21) 


122         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

this  western  point,  and  a  line  of  hard,  white  beach 
on  the  seacoast,  is  covered  with  a  dense  undergrowth 
of  the  sweet  myrtle  so  much  prized  by  the  horti 
culturists  of  England.  The  shrub  here  often  attains 
the  height  of  fifteen  or  twenty  feet,  and  forms  an 
almost  impenetrable  coppice,  burdening  the  air  with 
its  fragrance. 

In  the  inmost  recesses  of  this  coppice,  not  far 
from  the  eastern  or  more  remote  end  of  the  island, 
Legrand  had  built  himself  a  small  hut,  which  he 
occupied  when  I  first,  by  mere  accident,  made  his 
acquaintance.  This  soon  ripened  into  friendship — 
for  there  was  much  in  the  recluse  to  excite  interest 
and  esteem.  I  found  him  well  educated,  with  un 
usual  powers  of  mind,  but  infected  with  misan 
thropy,  and  subject  to  perverse  moods  of  alternate 
enthusiasm  and  melancholy.  He  had  with  him 
many  books,  but  rarely  employed  them.  His  chief 
amusements  were  gunning  and  fishing,  or  sauntering 
along  the  beach  and  through  the  myrtles,  in  quest 
of  shells  or  entomological  specimens — his  collection 
of  the  latter  might  have  been  envied  by  a  Swammer- 
damm.  In  these  excursions  he  was  usually  ac 
companied  by  an  old  negro,  called  Jupiter,  who  had 
been  manumitted  before  the  reverses  of  the  family, 
but  who  could  be  induced,  neither  by  threats  nor 
by  promises,  to  abandon  what  he  considered  his 
right  of  attendance  upon  the  footsteps  of  his  young 
"Massa  Will."  It  is  not  improbable  that  the  rela- 


The  Gold-Bug  123 

lives  of  Legrand,  conceiving  him  to  be  somewhat 
unsettled  in  intellect,  had  contrived  to  instil  this  ob 
stinacy  into  Jupiter,  with  a  view  to  the  supervision 
and  guardianship  of  the  wanderer. 

The  winters  in  the  latitude  of  Sullivan's  Island  are 
seldom  very  severe,  and  in  the  fall  of  the  year  it  is 
a  rare  event  indeed  when  a  fire  is  considered  neces 
sary.  About  the  middle  of  October,  18 — ,  there 
occurred,  however,  a  day  of  remarkable  chilliness. 
Just  before  sunset  I  scrambled  my  way  through  the 
evergreens  to  the  hut  of  my  friend,  whom  I  had  not 
visited  for  several  weeks — my  residence  being,  at 
that  time,  in  Charleston,  a  distance  of  nine  miles 
from  the  island,  while  the  facilities  of  passage  and 
re-passage  were  very  far  behind  those  of  the  present 
day.  Upon  reaching  the  hut  I  rapped,  as  was  my 
custom,  and  getting  no  reply,  sought  for  the  key 
where  I  knew  it  was  secreted,  unlocked  the  door,  and 
went  in.  A  fine  fire  was  blazing  upon  the  hearth. 
It  was  a  novelty,  and  by  no  means  an  ungrateful 
one.  I  threw  off  an  overcoat,  took  an  armchair  by 
the  crackling  logs,  and  awaited  patiently  the  arrival 
of  my  hosts. 

Soon  after  dark  they  arrived,  and  gave  me  a  most 
cordial  welcome.  Jupiter,  grinning  from  ear  to  ear, 
bustled  about  to  prepare  some  marsh-hens  for  sup 
per.  Legrand  was  in  one  of  his  fits — how  else 
shall  I  term  them  ? — of  enthusiasm.  He  had  found 
an  unknown  bivalve,  forming  a  new  genus,  and, 


124        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

more  than  this,  he  had  hunted  down  and  secured, 
with  Jupiter's  assistance,  a  scarabaeus  which  he  be 
lieved  to  be  totally  new,  but  in  respect  to  which  he 
wished  to  have  my  opinion  on  the  morrow. 

"And  why  not  to-night?"  I  asked,  rubbing  my 
hands  over  the  blaze,  and  wishing  the  whole  tribe 
of  scardbaei  at  the  devil. 

"Ah,  if  I  had  only  known  you  were  here!"  said 
Legrand,  "but  it's  so  long  since  I  saw  you ;  and  how 
could  I  foresee  that  you  would  pay  me  a  visit  this 
very  night,  of  all  others?  As  I  was  coming  home 

I  met  Lieutenant  G ,  from  the  fort,  and,  very 

foolishly,  I  lent  him  the  bug ;  so  it  will  be  impossible 
for  you  to  see  it  until  the  morning.  Stay  here  to 
night,  and  I  will  send  Jup  down  for  it  at  sunrise. 
It  is  the  loveliest  thing  in  creation !" 

"What?— sunrise?" 

"Nonsense!  no! — the  bug.  It  is  of  a  brilliant 
gold  color — about  the  size  of  a  large  hickory-nut — 
with  two  jet-black  spots  near  one  extremity  of  the 
back,  and  another,  somewhat  longer,  at  the  other. 
The  antennae  are — " 

"Dey  ain't  no  tin  in  him,  Massa  Will,  I  keep  a 
tellin'  on  you,"  here  interrupted  Jupiter ;  "de  bug  is  a 
goole-bug,  solid,  ebery  bit  of  him,  inside  and  all, 
sep  him  wing — neber  feel  half  so  hebby  a  bug  in  my 
life." 

"Well,  suppose  it  is,  Jup,"  replied  Legrand,  some 
what  more  earnestly,  it  seemed  to  me,  than  the  case 


The  Gold-Bug  125 

demanded;  "is  that  any  reason  for  your  letting  the 
birds  burn?  The  color — "  here  he  turned  to  me — 
"is  really  almost  enough  to  warrant  Jupiter's  idea. 
You  never  saw  a  more  brilliant  metallic  lustre  than 
the  scales  emit — but  of  this  you  cannot  judge  till  to 
morrow.  In  the  meantime  I  can  give  you  some  idea 
of  the  shape."  Saying  this,  he  seated  himself  at  a 
small  table,  on  which  were  a  pen  and  ink,  but  no 
paper.  He  looked  for  some  in  a  drawer,  but  found 
none. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said  at  length,  "this  will  an 
swer;"  and  he  drew  from  his  waistcoat  pocket  a 
scrap  of  what  I  took  to  be  very  dirty  foolscap,  and 
made  upon  it  a  rough  drawing  with  the  pen.  While 
he  did  this,  I  retained  my  seat  by  the  fire,  for  I  was 
still  chilly.  When  the  design  was  complete,  he 
handed  it  to  me  without  rising.  As  I  received  it, 
a  loud  growl  was  heard,  succeeded  by  a  scratching 
at  the  door.  Jupiter  opened  it,  and  a  large  New 
foundland,  belonging  to  Legrand,  rushed  in,  leaped 
upon  my  shoulders,  and  loaded  me  with  caresses ; 
for  I  had  shown  him  much  attention  during  previ 
ous  visits.  When  his  gambols  were  over,  I  looked 
at  the  paper,  and,  to  speak  the  truth,  found  myself 
not  a  little  puzzled  at  what  my  friend  had  depicted. 

"Well!"  I  said,  after  contemplating  it  for  some 
minutes,  "this  -is  a  strange  scar  abacus,  I  must  con 
fess;  new  to  me;  never  saw  anything  like  it  before 
— unless  it  was  a  skull,  or  a  death's-head,  which  it 


126        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

more  nearly  resembles  than  anything  else  that  has 
come  under  my  observation. 

"A  death's-head!"  echoed  Legrand.  "Oh— yes 
well,  it  has  something  of  that  appearance  upon  paper, 
no  doubt.  The  two  upper  black  spots  look  like  eyes, 
eh?  and  the  longer  one  at  the  bottom  like  a  mouth 
— and  then  the  shape  of  the  whole  is  oval." 

"Perhaps  so,"  said  I;  "but,  Legrand,  I  fear  you 
are  no  artist.  I  must  wait  until  I  see  the  beetle  it 
self,  if  I  am  to  form  any  idea  of  its  personal  appear 
ance." 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  he,  a  little  nettled, 
"I  draw  tolerably — should  do  it  at  least — have  had 
good  masters,  and  flatter  myself  that  I  am  not  quite 
a  blockhead." 

"But,  my  dear  fellow,  you  are  joking,  then," 
said  I ;  "this  is  a  very  passable  skull — indeed,  I  may 
say  that  it  is  a  very  excellent  skull,  according  to  the 
vulgar  notions  about  such  specimens  of  physiology 
— and  your  scarabaeus  must  be  the  queerest  scara- 
baeus  in  the  world  if  it  resembles  it.  Why,  we  may 
get  up  a  very  thrilling  bit  of  superstition  upon  this 
hint.  I  presume  you  will  call  the  bug  scarabaeus 
caput  hominis,  or  something  of  that  kind — there  are 
many  similar  titles  in  the  Natural  Histories.  But 
where  are  the  antennae  you  spoke  of  ?" 

"The  antennae 7"  said  Legrand,  who  seemed  to 
be  getting  unaccountably  warm  upon  the  subject; 
"I  am  sure  you  must  see  the  antennae.  I  made  them 


The  Gold-Bug  127 

as  distinct  as  they  are  in  the  original  insect,  and  I 
presume  that  is  sufficient." 

"Well,  well/'  I  said,  "perhaps  you  have — still  I 
don't  see  them ;"  and  I  handed  him  the  paper  with 
out  additional  remark,  not  wishing  to  ruffle  his  tem 
per;  but  I  was  much  surprised  at  the  turn  affairs 
had  taken;  his  ill  humor  puzzled  me — and,  as  for 
the  drawing  of  the  beetle,  there  were  positively  no 
antennae  visible,  and  the  whole  did  bear  a  very  close 
resemblance  to  the  ordinary  cuts  of  a  death's-head. 

He  received  the  paper  very  peevishly,  and  was 
about  to  crumple  it,  apparently  to  throw  it  in  the 
fire,  when  a  casual  glance  at  the  design  seemed  sud 
denly  to  rivet  his  attention.  In  an  instant  his  face 
grew  violently  red — in  another  excessively  pale. 
For  some  minutes  he  continued  to  scrutinize  the 
drawing  minutely  where  he  sat.  At  length  he  arose, 
took  a  candle  from  the  table,  and  proceeded  to  seat 
himself  upon  a  sea-chest  in  the  furthest  corner  of 
the  room.  Here  again  he  made  an  anxious  exami 
nation  of  the  paper ;  turning  it  in  all  directions.  He 
said  nothing,  however,  and  his  conduct  greatly  as 
tonished  me;  yet  I  thought  it  prudent  not  to  ex 
acerbate  the  growing  moodiness  of  his  temper  by 
any  comment.  Presently  he  took  from  his  coat- 
pocket  a  wallet,  placed  the  paper  carefully  in  it,  and 
deposited  both  in  a  writing-desk,  which  he  locked. 
He  now  grew  more  composed  in  his  demeanor;  but 
his  original  air  of  enthusiasm  had  quite  disappeared. 


ia8         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

Yet  he  seemed  not  so  much  sulky  as  abstracted.  As 
the  evening  wore  away  he  became  more  and  more 
absorbed  in  revery,  from  which  no  sallies  of  mine 
could  arouse  him.  It  had  been  my  intention  to  pass 
the  night  at  the  hut,  as  I  had  frequently  done  be 
fore,  but,  seeing  my  host  in  this  mood,  I  deemed  it 
proper  to  take  leave.  He  did  not  press  me  to  re 
main,  but,  as  I  departed,  he  shook  my  hand  with 
even  more  than  his  usual  cordiality. 

It  was  about  a  month  after  this  (and  during  the 
interval  I  had  seen  nothing  of  Legrand)  when  I  re 
ceived  a  visit,  at  Charleston,  from  his  man,  Jupiter. 
I  had  never  seen  the  good  old  negro  look  so  dis 
pirited,  and  I  feared  that  some  serious  disaster  had 
befallen  my  friend. 

"Well,  Jup,"  said  I,  "what  is  the  matter  now? 
— how  is  your  master?" 

"Why,  to  speak  de  troof,  massa,  him  not  so  berry 
well  as  mought  be." 

"Not  well!  I  am  truly  sorry  to  hear  it.  What 
does  he  complain  of?" 

"Dar!  dat's  it! — him  neber  'plain  of  notin' — but 
him  berry  sick  for  all  dat." 

"Very  sick,  Jupiter! — why  didn't  you  say  so  at 
once?  Is  he  confined  to  bed?" 

"No,  dat  he  aint! — he  aint  'fin'd  nowhar — dat's 
just  whar  de  shoe  pinch — my  mind  is  got  to  be  berry 
hebby  'bout  poor  Massa  Will." 

"Jupiter,  I  should  like  to  understand  what  it  is 


The  Gold-Bug  129 

you  are  talking  about.  You  say  your  master  is 
sick.  Hasn't  he  told  you  what  ails  him?" 

"Why,  massa,  'taint  worf  while  for  to  git  mad 
about  de  matter — Massa  Will  say  noffin  at  all  aint 
de  matter  wid  him — but  den  what  make  him  go 
about  looking  dis  here  way,  wid  he  head  down  and 
he  soldiers  up,  and  as  white  as  a  goose?  And  den 
he  keep  a  syphon  all  de  time — " 

"Keeps  a  what,  Jupiter?" 

"Keeps  a  syphon  wid  de  figgurs  on  de  slate — de 
queerest  figgurs  I  ebber  did  see.  Ise  gittin'  to  be 
skeered,  I  tell  you.  Hab  for  to  keep  mighty  tight 
eye  'pon  him  'noovers.  Todder  day  he  gib  me  slip 
'fore  de  sun  up  and  was  gone  de  whole  ob  de  blessed 
day.  I  had  a  big  stick  ready  cut  for  to  gib  him 
deuced  good  beating  when  he  did  come — but  Ise 
sich  a  fool  dat  I  hadn't  de  heart  arter  all — he  looked 
so  berry  poorly." 

"Eh  ? — what  ? — ah  yes ! — upon  the  whole  I  think 
you  had  better  not  be  too  severe  with  the  poor  fel 
low — don't  flog  him,  Jupiter — he  can't  very  well 
stand  it — but  can  you  form  no  idea  of  what  has  oc 
casioned  this  illness,  or  rather  this  change  of  con 
duct?  Has  anything  unpleasant  happened  since  I 
saw  you?" 

"No,  massa,  dey  aint  bin  noffin  onpleasant  since 
den — 'twas  'fore  den  I'm  feared — 'twas  de  berry 
day  you  was  dare." 

"How?  what  do  you  mean?" 


130         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

"Why,  massa,  I  mean  de  bug — dare  now." 

"The  what?" 

"De  bug — I'm  berry  sartin  dat  Massa  Will  bin  bit 
somewhere  'bout  de  head  by  dat  goole-bug." 

"And  what  cause  have  you,  Jupiter,  for  such  a 
supposition?" 

"Claws  enuff,  massa,  and  mouff,  too.  I  nebber 
did  see  sich  a  deuced  bug — he  kick  and  he  bite  ebery 
ting  what  cum  near  him.  Massa  Will  cotch  him 
fuss,  but  had  for  to  let  him  go  'gin  mighty  quick, 
I  tell  you — den  was  de  time  he  must  ha'  got  de  bite. 
I  didn't  like  de  look  ob  de  bug  mouff,  myself,  nohow, 
so  I  wouldn't  take  hold  ob  him  wid  my  finger,  but  I 
cotch  him  wid  a  piece  ob  paper  dat  I  found.  I  rap 
him  up  in  de  paper  and  stuff  a  piece  of  it  in  he  mouff 
— dat  was  de  way." 

"And  you  think,  then,  that  your  master  was  really 
bitten  by  the  beetle,  and  that  the  bite  made  him 
sick?" 

"I  don't  think  nofrm  about  it— I  nose  it.  What 
make  him  dream  'bout  de  goole  so  much,  if  'taint 
cause  he  bit  by  the  goole-bug  ?  Ise  heered  'bout  dem 
goole-bugs  'fore  dis." 

"But  how  do  you  know  he  dreams  about  gold?" 

"How  I  know?  why,  'cause  he  talk  about  it  in 
he  sleep — dat's  how  I  nose." 

"Well,  Jup,  perhaps  you  are  right;  but  to  what 
fortunate  circumstance  am  I  to  attribute  the  honor 
of  a  visit  from  you  to-day?" 


The  Gold-Bug  131 

"What  de  matter,  massa?" 
"Did  you  bring  any  message  from  Mr.  Legrand  ?" 
"No,  massa,  I  bring  dis  here  pissel;"  and  here 
Jupiter  handed  me  a  note  which  ran  thus : 

"MY  DEAR :  Why  have  I  not  seen  you  for  so 

long  a  time?  I  hope  you  have  not  been  so  foolish 
as  to  take  offence  at  any  little  brusquerie  of  mine; 
but  no,  that  is  improbable. 

"Since  I  saw  you  I  have  had  great  cause  for 
anxiety.  I  have  something  to  tell  you,  yet  scarcely 
know  how  to  tell  it,  or  whether  I  should  tell  it 
at  all. 

"I  have  not  been  quite  well  for  some  days  past, 
and  poor  old  Jup  annoys  me,  almost  beyond  en 
durance,  by  his  well-meant  attentions.  Would  you 
believe  it  ? — he  had  prepared  a  huge  stick,  the  other 
day,  with  which  to  chastise  me  for  giving  him  the 
slip,  and  spending  the  day,  solus,  among  the  hills 
on  the  main  land.  I  verily  believe  that  my  ill  looks 
alone  saved  me  a  flogging. 

"I  have  made  no  addition  to  my  cabinet  since  we 
met. 

"If  you  can,  in  any  way,  make  it  convenient,  come 
over  with  Jupiter.  Do  come.  I  wish  to  see  you 
to-night,  upon  business  of  importance.  I  assure 
you  that  it  is  of  the  highest  importance. 

"Ever  yours, 

"WILLIAM  LEGRAND/' 


132         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  this  note 
which  gave  me  great  uneasiness.  Its  whole  style 
differed  materially  from  that  of  Legrand.  What 
could  he  be  dreaming  of?  What  new  crotchet  pos 
sessed  his  excitable  brain?  What  "business  of  the 
highest  importance,"  could  he  possibly  have  to  trans 
act?  Jupiter's  account  of  him  boded  no  good.  I 
dreaded  lest  the  continued  pressure  of  misfortune 
had,  at  length,  fairly  unsettled  the  reason  of  my 
friend.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  therefore, 
I  prepared  to  accompany  the  negro. 

Upon  reaching  the  wharf,  I  noticed  a  scythe  and 
three  spades,  all  apparently  new,  lying  in  the  bot 
tom  of  the  boat  in  which  we  were  to  embark. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this,  Jup?"  I  irr- 
quired. 

"Him  syfe,  massa,  and  spade." 

"Very  true;  but  what  are  they  doing  here?" 

"Him  de  syfe  and  de  spade  what  Massa  Will  sis 
pon  my  buying  for  him  in  de  town,  and  de  debbil's 
own  lot  of  money  I  had  to  gib  for  'em." 

"But  what,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  mysterious, 
is  your  'Massa  Will'  going  to  do  with  scythes  and 
spades?" 

"Dat's  more  dan  /  know,  and  debbil  take  me  if 
I  don't  b'lieve  'tis  more  dan  he  know,  too.  But  it's 
all  cum  ob  de  bug." 

Finding  that  no  satisfaction  was  to  be  obtained 
of  Jupiter,  whose  whole  intellect  seemed  to  be  ab- 


The  Gold-Bug  133 

sorbed  by  "de  bug/'  I  now  stepped  into  the  boat, 
and  made  sail.  With  a  fair  and  strong  breeze  we 
soon  ran  into  the  little  cove  to  the  northward  of 
Fort  Moultrie,  and  a  walk  of  some  two  miles 
brought  us  to  the  hut.  It  was  about  three  in  the 
afternoon  when  we  arrived.  Legrand  had  been 
awaiting  us  in  eager  expectation.  He  grasped  my 
hand  with  a  nervous  empressement  which  alarmed 
me  and  strengthened  the  suspicions  already  enter 
tained.  His  countenance  was  pale  even  to  ghastli- 
ness,  and  his  deep-set  eyes  glared  with  unnatural 
lustre.  After  some  inquiries  respecting  his  health, 
I  asked  him,  not  knowing  what  better  to  say,  if  he 
had  yet  obtained  the  scarabaeus  from  Lieutenant 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  replied,  coloring  violently,  "I  got 
it  from  him  the  next  morning.  Nothing  should 
tempt  me  to  part  with  that  scarabaeus.  Do  you 
know  that  Jupiter  is  quite  right  about  it?" 

"In  what  way?"  I  asked,  with  a  sad  foreboding 
at  heart. 

"In  supposing  it  to  be  a  bug  of  real  gold."  He 
said  this  with  art  air  of  profound  seriousness,  and  I 
felt  inexpressibly  shocked. 

"This  bug  is  to  make  my  fortune,"  he  continued, 
with  a  triumphant  smile;  "to  reinstate  me  in  my 
family  possessions.  Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that  I 
prize  it?  Since  Fortune  has  thought  fit  to  bestow 
it  upon  me,  I  have  only  to  use  it  properly,  and  I 


134        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

shall  arrive  at  the  gold  of  which  it  is  the  index. 
Jupiter,  bring  me  that  scarabaeus !" 

"What!  de  bug,  massa?  I'd  rudder  not  go  fer 
trubble  dat  bug;  you  mus'  git  him  for  your  own 
self."  Hereupon  Legrand  arose,  with  a  grave  and 
stately  air,  and  brought  me  the  beetle  from  a  glass 
case  in  which  it  was  inclosed.  It  was  a  beautiful 
scarabaeus,  and,  at  that  time,  unknown  to  naturalists 
— of  course  a  great  prize  in  a  scientific  point  of  view. 
There  were  two  round  black  spots  near  one  extrem 
ity  of  the  back,  and  a  long  one  near  the  other.  The 
scales  were  exceedingly  hard  and  glossy,  with  all 
the  appearance  of  burnished  gold.  The  weight  of 
the  insect  was  very  remarkable,  and,  taking  all 
things  into  consideration,  I  could  hardly  blame  Jupi 
ter  for  his  opinion  respecting  it;  but  what  to  make 
of  Legrand' s  concordance  with  that  opinion,  I  could 
not,  for  the  life  of  me,  tell. 

"I  sent  for  you/'  said  he,  in  a  grandiloquent  tone, 
when  I  had  completed  my  examination  of  the  beetle, 
"I  sent  for  you  that  I  might  have  your  counsel  and 
assistance  in  furthering  the  views  of  Fate  and  of 
the  bug—" 

"My  dear  Legrand,"  I  cried,  interrupting  him, 
"you  are  certainly  unwell,  and  had  better  use  some 
little  precautions.  You  shall  go  to  bed,  and  I  will 
remain  with  you  a  few  days,  until  you  get  over  this. 
You  are  feverish  and — " 

"Feel  my  pulse,"  said  he. 


The  Gold-Bug  135 

I  felt  it,  and,  to  say  the  truth,  found  not  the  slight 
est  indication  of  fever. 

"But  you  may  be  ill  and  yet  have  no  fever.  Al 
low  me  this  once  to  prescribe  for  you.  In  the  first 
place,  go  to  bed.  In  the  next — " 

"You  are  mistaken,"  he  interposed,  "I  am  as  well 
as  I  can  expect  to  be  under  the  excitement  which  I 
suffer.  If  you  really  wish  me  well,  you  will  relieve 
this  excitement." 

"And  how  is  this  to  be  done?" 

"Very  easily.  Jupiter  and  myself  are  going  upon 
an  expedition  into  the  hills,  upon  the  main  land, 
and,  in  this  expedition,  we  shall  need  the  aid  of  some 
person  in  whom  we  can  confide.  You  are  the  only 
one  we  can  trust.  Whether  we  succeed  or  fail,  the 
excitement  which  you  now  perceive  in  me  will  be 
equally  allayed." 

"I  am  anxious  to  oblige  you  in  any  way,"  I  re 
plied;  "but  do  you  mean  to  say  that  this  infernal 
beetle  has  any  connection  with  your  expedition  into 
the  hills?" 

"It  has." 

"Then,  Legrand,  I  can  become  a  party  to  no  such 
absurd  proceeding." 

"I  am  sorry — very  sorry — for  we  shall  have  to 
try  it  by  ourselves." 

"Try  it  by  yourselves !  The  man  is  surely  mad ! 
— but  stay! — how  long  do  you  propose  to  be  ab 
sent?" 


136         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

"Probably  all  night.  We  shall  start  immediately, 
and  be  back,  at  all  events,  by  sunrise." 

"And  will  you  promise  me,  upon  your  honor,  that 
when  this  freak  of  yours  is  over,  and  the  bug  busi 
ness  (good  God!)  settled  to  your  satisfaction,  you 
will  then  return  home  and  follow  my  advice  im 
plicitly,  as  that  of  your  physician?" 

"Yes;  I  promise;  and  now  let  us  be  off,  for  we 
have  no  time  to  lose." 

With  a  heavy  heart  I  accompanied  my  friend. 
We  started  about  four  o'clock — Legrand,  Jupiter, 
the  dog,  and  myself.  Jupiter  had  with  him  the 
scythe  and  spades — the  whole  of  which  he  insisted 
upon  carrying — more  through  fear,  it  seemed  to  me, 
of  trusting  either  of  the  implements  within  reach 
of  his  master,  than  from  any  excess  of  industry  or 
complaisance.  His  demeanor  was  dogged  in  the 
extreme,  and  "dat  deuced  bug"  were  the  sole  words 
which  escaped  his  lips  during  the  journey.  For 
my  own  part,  I  had  charge  of  a  couple  of  dark 
lanterns,  while  Legrand  contented  himself  with  the 
scarabaeus,  which  he  carried  attached  to  the  end  of 
a  bit  of  whip-cord;  twirling  it  to  and  fro,  with  the 
air  of  a  conjurer,  as  he  went.  When  I  observed 
this  last,  plain  evidence  of  my  friend's  aberration  of 
mind,  I  could  scarcely  refrain  from  tears.  I  thought 
it  best,  however,  to  humor  his  fancy,  at  least  for 
the  present,  or  until  I  could  adopt  some  more  ener 
getic  measures  with  a  chance  of  success.  In  the 


The  Gold-Bug  137 

meantime  I  endeavored,  but  all  in  vain,  to  sound  him 
in  regard  to  the  object  of  the  expedition.  Having 
succeeded  in  inducing  me  to  accompany  him,  he 
seemed  unwilling  to  hold  conversation  upon  any 
topic  of  minor  importance,  and  to  all  my  questions 
vouchsafed  no  other  reply  than  "we  shall  see!" 

We  crossed  the  creek  at  the  head  of  the  island  by 
means  of  a  skiff,  and,  ascending  the  high  grounds  on 
the  shore  of  the  main  land,  proceeded  in  a  north 
westerly  direction,  through  a  tract  of  country  ex 
cessively  wild  and  desolate,  where  no  trace  of  a  hu 
man  footstep  was  to  be  seen-  Legrand  led  the  way 
with  decision ;  pausing  only  for  an  instant,  here  and 
there,  to  consult  what  appeared  to  be  certain  land 
marks  of  his  own  contrivance  upon  a  former  occa 
sion. 

In  this  manner  we  journeyed  for  about  two  hours, 
and  the  sun  was  just  setting  when  we  entered  a  re 
gion  infinitely  more  dreary  than  any  yet  seen.  It 
was  a  species  of  tableland,  near  the  summit  of  an 
almost  inaccessible  hill,  densely  wooded  from  base 
to  pinnacle,  and  interspersed  with  huge  crags  that 
appeared  to  lie  loosely  upon  the  soil,  and  in  many 
cases  were  prevented  from  precipitating  themselves 
into  the  valleys  below,  merely  by  the  support  of  the 
trees  against  which  they  reclined.  Deep  ravines,  in 
various  directions,  gave  an  air  of  still  sterner  so 
lemnity  to  the  scene. 

The  natural  platform  to  which  we  had  clambered 


138         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

was  thickly  overgrown  with  brambles,  through 
which  we  soon  discovered  that  it  would  have  been 
impossible  to  force  our  way  but  for  the  scythe;  and 
Jupiter,  by  direction  of  his  master,  proceeded  to  clear 
for  us  a  path  to  the  foot  of  an  enormously  tall  tulip- 
tree,  which  stood,  with  some  eight  or  ten  oaks,  upon 
the  level,  and  far  surpassed  them  all,  and  all  other 
trees  which  I  had  then  ever  seen,  in  the  beauty  of  its 
foliage  and  form,  in  the  wide  spread  of  its  branches, 
and  in  the  general  majesty  of  its  appearance.  When 
we  reached  this  tree,  Legrand  turned  to  Jupiter,  and 
asked  him  if  he  thought  he  could  climb  it.  The  old 
man  seemed  a  little  staggered  by  the  question,  and 
for  some  moments  made  no  reply.  At  length  he  ap 
proached  the  huge  trunk,  walked  slowly  around  it 
and  examined  it  with  minute  attention.  When  he 
had  completed  his  scrutiny,  he  merely  said: 

"Yes,  massa,  Jup  climb  any  tree  he  eber  see  in  he 
life." 

"Then  up  with  you  as  soon  as  possible,  for  it  will 
soon  be  too  dark  to  see  what  we  are  about." 

"How  far  mus'  go  up,  massa?"  inquired  Jupiter. 

"Get  up  the  main  trunk  first,  and  then  I  will  tell 
you  which  way  to  go — and  here — stop!  take  this 
beetle  with  you." 

"De  bug,  Massa  Will ! — de  goole-bug !"  cried  the 
negro,  drawing  back  in  dismay — "what  for  mus  tote 
de  bug  way  up  de  tree? — d — n  if  I  do!" 

"If  you  are  afraid,  Jup,  a  great  big  negro  like 


The  Gold-Bug  139 

you,  to  take  hold  of  a  harmless  little  dead  beetle, 
why  you  can  carry  it  up  by  this  string — but,  if  you 
do  not  take  it  up  with  you  in  some  way,  I  shall  be 
under  the  necessity  of  breaking  your  head  with  this 
shovel." 

"What  de  matter  now,  massa  ?"  said  Jup,  evidently 
shamed  into  compliance;  "always  want  for  to  raise 
fuss  wid  old  nigger.  Was  only  funnin,  anyhow.  Me 
f eered  de  bug !  what  I  keer  for  de  bug  ?"  Here  he 
took  cautiously  hold  of  the  extreme  end  of  the 
string,  and,  maintaining  the  insect  as  far  from  his 
person  as  circumstances  would  permit,  prepared  to 
ascend  the  tree. 

In  youth,  the  tulip-tree,  or  Liriodendron  Tulipi- 
ferum,  the  most  magnificent  of  American  foresters, 
has  a  trunk  peculiarly  smooth,  and  often  rises  to  a 
great  height  without  lateral  branches;  but,  in  its 
riper  age,  the  bark  becomes  gnarled  and  uneven, 
while  many  short  limbs  make  their  appearance  on 
the  stem.  Thus  the  difficulty  of  ascension,  in  the 
present  case,  lay  more  in  semblance  than  in  reality. 
Embracing  the  huge  cylinder,  as  closely  as  possible 
with  his  arms  and  knees,  seizing  with  his  hands 
some  projections,  and  resting  his  naked  toes  upon 
others,  Jupiter,  after  one  or  two  narrow  escapes 
from  falling,  at  length  wriggled  himself  into  the  first 
great  fork,  and  seemed  to  consider  the  whole  busi 
ness  as  virtually  accomplished.  The  risk  of  the 
achievement  was,  in  fact,  now  over,  although  the 


140        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

climber  was  some  sixty  or  seventy  feet  from  the 
ground. 

"Which  way  mus  go  now,  Massa  Will?"  he 
asked. 

"Keep  up  the  largest  branch — the  one  on  this 
side,"  said  Legrand.  The  negro  obeyed  him 
promptly,  and  apparently  with  but  little  trouble; 
ascending  higher  and  higher,  until  no  glimpse  of 
his  squat  figure  could  be  obtained  through  the  dense 
foliage  which  enveloped  it.  Presently  his  voice 
was  heard  in  a  sort  of  halloo. 

"How  much  fudder  is  got  for  go?" 

"How  high  up  are  you  ?"  asked  Legrand. 

"Ebber  so  fur,"  replied  the  negro;  "can  see  de 
sky  fru  de  top  ob  de  tree." 

"Never  mind  the  sky,  but  attend  to  what  I  say. 
Look  down  the  trunk  and  count  the  limbs  below 
you  on  this  side.  How  many  limbs  have  you 
passed  ?" 

"One,  two,  tree,  four,  fibe — I  done  pass  fibe  big 
limb,  massa,  'pon  dis  side." 

"Then  go  one  limb  higher." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  voice  was  heard  again,  an 
nouncing  that  the  seventh  limb  was  attained. 

"Now,  Jup,"  cried  Legrand,  evidently  much  ex 
cited,  "I  want  you  to  work  your  way  out  upon  that 
limb  as  far  as  you  can.  If  you  see  anything  strange 
let  me  know." 

By  this  time  what  little  doubt  I  might  have  en- 


The  Gold-Bug  141 

tertained  of  my  poor  friend's  insanity  was  put 
finally  at  rest.  I  had  no  alternative  but  to  conclude 
him  stricken  with  lunacy,  and  I  became  seriously 
anxious  about  getting  him  home.  While  I  was  pon 
dering  upon  what  was  best  to  be  done,  Jupiter's 
voice  was  again  heard. 

"Mos  feered  for  to  ventur  pon  dis  limb  berry  far 
— 'tis  dead  limb  putty  much  all  de  way." 

"Did  you  say  it  was  a  dead  limb,  Jupiter?"  cried 
Legrand  in  a  quavering  voice. 

"Yes,  massa,  him  dead  as  de  door-nail — done  up 
for  sartin — done  departed  dis  here  life." 

"What  in  the  name  of  heaven  shall  I  do?"  asked 
Legrand,  seemingly  in  the  greatest  distress. 

"Do !"  said  I,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  interpose 
a  word,  "why,  come  home  and  go  to  bed.  Come 
now! — that's  a  fine  fellow.  It's  getting  late,  and, 
besides,  you  remember  your  promise." 

"Jupiter,"  cried  he,  without  heeding  me  in  the 
least,  "do  you  hear  me  ?" 

"Yes,  Massa  Will,  hear  you  ebber  so  plain." 

"Try  the  wood  well,  then,  with  your  knife,  and 
see  if  you  think  it  very  rotten." 

"Him  rotten,  massa,  sure  nuff,"  replied  the  negro 
in  a  few  moments,  "but  not  so  berry  rotten  as 
mought  be.  Mought  venture  out  leetle  way  pon  de 
limb  by  myself,  dat's  true." 

"By  yourself ! — what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Why,  I  mean  de  bug.     'Tis  berry  hebby  bug. 


142         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

Spose  I  drop  him  down  fuss,  and  den  de  limb  won't 
break  wid  just  de  weight  of  one  nigger." 

"You  infernal  scoundrel!"  cried  Legrand,  appar 
ently  much  relieved,  "what  do  you  mean  by  telling 
me  such  nonsense  as  that?  As  sure  as  you  drop 
that  beetle  I'll  break  your  neck.  Look  here,  Jupiter, 
do  you  hear  me?" 

"Yes,  massa,  needn't  hollo  at  poor  nigger  dat 
style." 

"Well !  now  listen ! — if  you  will  venture  out  on 
the  limb  as  far  as  you  think  safe,  and  not  let  go 
the  beetle,  I'll  make  you  a  present  of  a  silver  dollar 
as  soon  as  you  get  down." 

"I'm  gwine,  Massa  Will — deed  I  is,"  replied 
the  negro  very  promptly — "mos  out  to  the  eend 
now." 

"Out  to  the  end!"  here  fairly  screamed  Legrand; 
"do  you  say  you  are  out  to  the  end  of  that  limb?" 

"Soon  be  to  the  eend,  massa — o-o-o-o-oh!  Lor- 
gol-a-mercy!  what  is  dis  here  pon  de  tree?" 

"Well!"  cried  Legrand,  highly  delighted,  "what 
is  it?" 

"Why,  'taint  noffin  but  a  skull — somebody  bin 
lef  him  head  up  de  tree,  and  de  crows  done  gobble 
ebery  bit  ob  de  meat  off." 

"A  skull,  you  say ! — very  well — how  is  it  fastened 
to  the  limb? — what  holds  it  on?" 

"Sure  nuff,  massa;  mus  look.  Why  dis  berry 
curious  sarcumstance,  pon  mv  word — dare's  a  great 


The  Gold-Bug  143 

big  nail  in  de  skull,  what  fastens  ob  it  on  to  de 
tree." 

"Well  now,  Jupiter,  do  exactly  as  I  tell  you — do 
you  hear?" 

"Yes,  massa." 

"Pay  attention,  then— find  the  left  eye  of  the 
skull." 

"Hum!  hoo!  dat's  good!  why  dey  ain't  no  eye  lef 
at  all." 

"Curse  your  stupidity!  do  you  know  your  right 
hand  from  your  left?" 

"Yes,  I  knows  dat — knows  all  about  dat — 'tis  my 
lef  hand  what  I  chops  de  wood  wid." 

"To  be  sure!  you  are  left-handed;  and  your  left 
eye  is  on  the  same  side  as  your  left  hand.  Now,  I 
suppose,  you  can  find  the  left  eye  of  the  skull,  or  the 
place  where  the  left  eye  has  been.  Have  you  found 
it?" 

Here  was  a  long  pause.  At  length  the  negro  asked. 

"Is  de  lef  eye  of  de  skull  pon  de  same  side  as  de 
lef  hand  of  de  skull,  too? — cause  de  skull  aint  got 
not  a  bit  ob  a  hand  at  all — nebber  mind !  I  got  de 
lef  eye  now — here  de  lef  eye !  what  mus  do  wid  it  ?" 

"Let  the  beetle  drop  through  it,  as  far  as  the 
string  will  reach — but  be  careful  and  not  let  go  your 
hold  of  the  string." 

"All  dat  done,  Massa  Will;  mighty  easy  ting  for 
to  put  de  bug  fru  de  hole — look  out  for  him  dare 
below!" 


144        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

During  this  colloquy  no  portion  of  Jupiter's  per 
son  could  be  seen ;  but  the  beetle,  which  he  had  suf 
fered  to  descend,  was  now  visible  at  the  end  of  the 
string,  and  glistened,  like  a  globe  of  burnished  gold, 
in  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  some  of  which 
still  faintly  illumined  the  eminence  upon  which  we 
stood.  The  scarabaeus  hung  quite  clear  of  any 
branches,  and,  if  allowed  to  fall,  would  have  fallen 
at  our  feet.  Legrand  immediately  took  the  scythe, 
and  cleared  with  it  a  circular  space,  three  or  four 
yards  in  diameter,  just  beneath  the  insect,  and,  hav 
ing  accomplished  this,  ordered  Jupiter  to  let  go  the 
string  and  come  down  from  the  tree. 

Driving  a  peg,  with  great  nicety,  into  the  ground, 
at  the  precise  spot  where  the  beetle  fell,  my  friend 
now  produced  from  his  pocket  a  tape-measure. 
Fastening  one  end  of  this  at  that  point  of  the  trunk 
of  the  tree  which  was  nearest  the  peg,  he  unrolled 
it  till  it  reached  the  peg  and  thence  further  unrolled 
it,  in  the  direction  already  established  by  the  two 
points  of  the  tree  and  the  peg,  for  the  distance  of 
fifty  feet — Jupiter  clearing  away  the  brambles  with 
the  scythe.  At  the  spot  thus  attained  a  second  peg 
was  driven,  and  about  this,  as  a  centre,  a  rude  cir 
cle,  about  four  feet  in  diameter,  described.  Taking 
now  a  spade  himself,  and  giving  one  to  Jupiter  and 
one  to  me,  Legrand  begged  us  to  set  about  digging 
as  quickly  as  possible. 

To  speak  the  truth,  I  had  no  especial  relish  for 


The  Gold-Bug  145 

such  amusement  at  any  time,  and,  at  that  particular 
moment,  would  willingly  have  declined  it;  for  the 
night  was  coming  on,  and  I  felt  much  fatigued  with 
the  exercise  already  taken;  but  I  saw  no  mode 
of  escape,  and  was  fearful  of  disturbing  my  poor 
friend's  equanimity  by  a  refusal.  Could  I  have 
depended,  indeed,  upon  Jupiter's  aid,  I  would  have 
had  no  hesitation  in  attempting  to  get  the  lunatic 
home  by  force ;  but  I  was  too  well  assured  of  the  old 
negro's  disposition  to  hope  that  he  would  assist  me, 
under  any  circumstances,  in  a  personal  contest  with 
his  master.  I  made  no  doubt  that  the  latter  had 
been  infected  with  some  of  the  innumerable  South 
ern  superstitions  about  money  buried,  and  that  his 
phantasy  had  received  confirmation  by  the  finding  of 
the  scarabaeuSj  or,  perhaps,  by  Jupiter's  obstinacy  in 
maintaining  it  to  be  "a  bug  of  real  gold."  A  mind 
disposed  to  lunacy  would  readily  be  led  away  by 
such  suggestions — especially  if  chiming  in  with  fa 
vorite  preconceived  ideas — and  then  I  called  to  mind 
the  poor  fellow's  speech  about  the  beetle's  being  "the 
index  of  his  fortune."  Upon  the  whole,  I  was  sadly 
vexed  and  puzzled,  but,  at  length,  I  concluded  to 
make  a  virtue  of  necessity — to  dig  with  a  good  will, 
and  thus  the  sooner  to  convince  the  visionary,  by 
ocular  demonstration,  of  the  fallacy  of  the  opinion 
he  entertained. 

The  lanterns  having  been  lit,  we  all  fell  to  work 
with  a  zeal  worthy  a  more  rational  cause;  and,  as 

I— Poe— 7 


146        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

the  glare  fell  upon  our  persons  and  implements,  I 
could  not  help  thinking  how  picturesque  a  group  we 
composed,  and  how  strange  and  suspicious  our  la 
bors  must  have  appeared  to  any  interloper  who,  by 
chance,  might  have  stumbled  upon  our  whereabout. 

We  dug  very  steadily  for  two  hours.  Little  was 
said;  and  our  chief  embarrassment  lay  in  the  yelp 
ings  of  the  dog,  who  took  exceeding  interest  in  our 
proceedings.  He,  at  length,  became  so  obstreper 
ous  that  we  grew  fearful  of  his  giving  the  alarm  to 
some  stragglers  in  the  vicinity — or,  rather,  this  was 
the  apprehension  of  Legrand ; — for  myself,  I  should 
have  rejoiced  at  any  interruption  which  might  have 
enabled  me  to  get  the  wanderer  home.  The  noise 
was,  at  length,  very  effectually  silenced  by  Jupiter, 
who,  getting  out  of  the  hole  with  a  dogged  air  of 
deliberation,  tied  the  brute's  mouth  up  with  one  of 
his  suspenders,  and  then  returned,  with  a  grave 
chuckle,  to  his  task. 

When  the  time  mentioned  had  expired,  we  had 
reached  a  depth  of  five  feet,  and  yet  no  signs  of  any 
treasure  became  manifest.  A  general  pause  en 
sued,  and  I  began  to  hope  that  the  farce  was  at  an 
end.  Legrand,  however,  although  evidently  much 
disconcerted,  wiped  his  brow  thoughtfully  and  re 
commenced.  We  had  excavated  trie  entire  circle  of 
four  feet  diameter,  and  now  we  slightly  enlarged 
the  limit,  and  went  to  the  further  depth  of  two  feet. 
Still  nothing  appeared.  The  gold-seeker,  whom  I 


The  Gold-Bug  147 

sincerely  pitied,  at  length  clambered  from  the  pit, 
with  the  bitterest  disappointment  imprinted  upon 
every  feature,  and  proceeded,  slowly  and  reluctantly, 
to  put  on  his  coat,  which  he  had  thrown  off  at  the 
beginning  of  his  labor.  In  the  meantime  I  made  no 
remark.  Jupiter,  at  a  signal  from  his  master,  be 
gan  to  gather  up  his  tools.  This  done,  and  the  dog 
having  been  unmuzzled,  we  turned  in  profound  si 
lence  toward  home. 

We  had  taken,  perhaps,  a  dozen  steps  in  this  direc 
tion,  when,  with  a  loud  oath,  Legrand  strode  up  to 
Jupiter,  and  seized  him  by  the  collar.  The  aston 
ished  negro  opened  his  eyes  and  mouth  to  the  fullest 
extent,  let  fall  the  spades,  and  fell  upon  his  knees. 

"You  scoundrel !"  said  Legrand,  hissing  out  the 
syllables  from  between  his  clinched  teeth — "you  in 
fernal  black  villain! — speak,  I  tell  you! — answer 
me  this  instant,  without  prevarication! — which — 
which  is  your  left  eye?" 

"Oh,  my  golly,  Massa  Will !  aint  dis  here  my  lef 
eye  for  sartain?"  roared  the  terrified  Jupiter,  plac 
ing  his  hand  upon  his  right  organ  of  vision,  and 
holding  it  there  with  a  desperate  pertinacity,  as  if 
in  immediate  dread  of  his  master's  attempt  at  a 
gouge. 

"I  thought  so! — I  knew  it!  hurrah!"  vociferated 
Legrand,  letting  the  negro  go  and  executing  a  series 
of  curvets  and  caracols,  much  to  the  astonishment  of 
his  valet,  who,  arising  from  his  knees,  looked,  mute- 


148        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

ly,  from  his  master  to  myself,  and  then  from  myself 
to  his  master. 

"Come!  we  must  go  back,"  said  the  latter,  "the 
game's  not  up  yet ;"  and  he  again  led  the  way  to  the 
tulip-tree. 

"Jupiter,"  said  he,  when  we  reached  its  foot, 
"come  here!  was  the  skull  nailed  to  the  limb  with 
the  face  outward,  or  with  the  face  to  the  limb?" 

"De  face  was  out,  massa,  so  dat  de  crows  could 
get  at  de  eyes  good,  widout  any  trouble." 

"Well,  then,  was  it  this  eye  or  that  through  which 
you  dropped  the  beetle  ?"  here  Legrand  touched  each 
of  Jupiter's  eyes. 

"  'Twas  dis  eye,  massa — de  lef  eye — jis  as  you 
tell  me,"  and  here  it  was  his  right  eye  that  the  negro 
indicated. 

"That  will  do — we  must  try  it  again." 

Here  my  friend,  about  whose  madness  I  now  saw, 
or  fancied  that  I  saw,  certain  indications  of  method, 
removed  the  peg  which  marked  the  spot  where  the 
beetle  fell,  to  a  spot  about  three  inches  to  the  west 
ward  of  its  former  position.  Taking,  now,  the  tape 
measure  from  the  nearest  point  of  the  trunk  to  the 
peg,  as  before,  and  continuing  the  extension  in  a 
straight  line  to  the  distance  of  fifty  feet,  a  spot  was 
indicated,  removed,  by  several  yards,  from  the  point 
at  which  we  had  been  digging. 

Around  the  new  position  a  circle,  somewhat  larger 
than  in  the  former  instance,  was  now  described,  and 


The  Gold-Bug  149 

we  again  set  to  work  with  the  spade.  I  was  dread 
fully  weary,  but,  scarcely  understanding  what  had 
occasioned  the  change  in  my  thoughts,  I  felt  no 
longer  any  great  aversion  from  the  labor  imposed. 
I  had  become  most  unaccountably  interested — nay, 
even  excited.  Perhaps  there  was  something,  amid 
all  the  extravagant  demeanor  of  Legrand — some  air 
of  forethought,  or  of  deliberation,  which  impressed 
me.  I  dug  eagerly,  and  now  and  then  caught  my 
self  actually  looking,  with  something  that  very  much 
resembled  expectation,  for  the  fancied  treasure,  the 
vision  of  which  had  demented  my  unfortunate  com 
panion.  At  a  period  when  such  vagaries  of  thought 
most  fully  possessed  me,  and  when  we  had  been  at 
work  perhaps  an  hour  and  a  half,  we  were  again  in 
terrupted  by  the  violent  howlings  of  the  dog.  His 
uneasiness,  in  the  first  instance,  had  been,  evidently, 
but  the  result  of  playfulness  or  caprice,  but  he  now 
assumed  a  bitter  and  serious  tone.  Upon  Jupiter's 
again  attempting  to  muzzle  him,  he  made  furious  re 
sistance,  and,  leaping  into  the  hole,  tore  up  the 
mould  frantically  with  his  claws.  In  a  few  seconds 
he  had  uncovered  a  mass  of  human  bones,  forming 
two  complete  skeletons,  intermingled  with  several 
buttons  of  metal,  and  what  appeared  to  be  the  dust 
of  decayed  woollen.  One  or  two  strokes  of  a  spade 
upturned  the  blade  of  a  large  Spanish  knife,  and,  as 
we  dug  further,  three  or  four  loose  pieces  of  gold 
and  silver  coin  came  to  light. 


150        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

At  sight  of  these  the  joy  of  Jupiter  could  scarcely 
be  restrained,  but  the  countenance  of  his  master  wore 
an  air  of  extreme  disappointment.  He  urged  us, 
however,  to  continue  our  exertions,  and  the  words 
were  hardly  uttered  when  I  stumbled  and  fell  'for 
ward,  having  caught  the  toe  of  my  boot  in  a  large 
ring  of  iron  that  lay  half  buried  in  the  loose  earth. 

We  now  worked  in  earnest,  and  never  did  I  pass 
ten  minutes  of  more  intense  excitement.  During 
this  interval  we  had  fairly  unearthed  an  oblong  chest 
of  wood,  which,  from  its  perfect  preservation  and 
wonderful  hardness,  had  plainly  been  subjected  to 
some  mineralizing  process — perhaps  that  of  the  bi 
chloride  of  mercury.  This  box  was  three  feet  and 
a  half  long,  three  feet  broad,  and  two  and  a  half 
feet  deep.  It  was  firmly  secured  by  bands  of 
wrought  iron,  riveted,  and  forming  a  kind  of  open 
trellis-work  over  the  whole.  On  each  side  of  the 
chest,  near  the  top,  were  three  rings  of  iron — six 
in  all — by  means  of  which  a  firm  hold  could  be 
obtained  by  six  persons.  Our  utmost  united  en 
deavors  served  only  to  disturb  the  coffer  very 
slightly  in  its  bed.  We  at  once  saw  the  impossibil 
ity  of  removing  so  great  a  weight.  Luckily,  the 
sole  fastenings  of  the  lid  consisted  of  two  sliding 
bolts.  These  we  drew  back — trembling  and  pant 
ing  with  anxiety.  In  an  instant,  a  treasure  of  in 
calculable  value  lay  gleaming  before  us.  As  the 
rays  of  the  lanterns  fell  within  the  pit,  there  flashed 


The  Gold-Bug  151 

upward  a  glow  and  a  glare,  from  a  confused  heap  of 
gold  and  of  jewels,  that  absolutely  dazzled  our  eyes. 

I  shall  not  pretend  to  describe  the  feelings  with 
which  I  gazed.  Amazement  was,  of  course,  pre 
dominant.  Legrand  appeared  exhausted  with  ex 
citement,  and  spoke  very  few  words.  Jupiter's 
countenance  wore,  for  some  minutes,  as  deadly  a 
pallor  as  it  is  possible,  in  the  nature  of  things,  for 
any  negro's  visage  to  assume.  He  seemed  stupefied 
— thunderstricken.  Presently  he  fell  upon  his  knees 
in  the  pit,  and  burying  his  naked  arms  up  to  the 
elbows  in  gold,  let  them  there  remain,  as  if  enjoying 
the  luxury  of  a  bath.  At  length,  with  a  deep  sigh, 
he  exclaimed,  as  if  in  a  soliloquy : 

"And  dis  all  cum  ob  de  goole-bug !  de  putty  goole- 
bug!  de  poor  little  goole-bug,  what  I  boosed  in  that 
sabage  kind  ob  style!  Aint  you  shamed  ob  your 
self,  nigger? — answer  me  dat!" 

It  became  necessary,  at  last,  that  I  should  arouse 
both  master  and  valet  to  the  expediency  of  remov 
ing  the  treasure.  It  was  growing  late,  and  it  be 
hooved  us  to  make  exertion,  that  we  might  get 
everything  housed  before  daylight.  It  was  diffi 
cult  to  say  what  should  be  done,  and  much  time  was 
spent  in  deliberation — so  confused  were  the  ideas  of 
all.  We,  finally,  lightened  the  box  by  removing 
two-thirds  of  its  contents,  when  we  were  enabled, 
with  so'me  trouble,  to  raise  it  from  the  hole.  The 
articles  taken  out  were  deposited  among  the  bram- 


152         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

bles,  and  the  dog  left  to  guard  them,  with  strict  or 
ders  from  Jupiter  neither,  upon  any  pretence,  to  stir 
from  the  spot,  nor  to  open  his  mouth  until  our  re 
turn.  We  then  hurriedly  made  for  home  with  the 
chest ;  reaching  the  hut  in  safety,  but  after  excessive 
toil,  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Worn  out  as 
we  were,  it  was  not  in  human  nature  to  do  more  im 
mediately.  We  rested  until  two,  and  had  supper; 
starting  for  the  hills  immediately  afterward,  armed 
with  three  stout  sacks,  which,  by  good  luck,  wrere 
upon  the  premises.  A  little  before  four  we  arrived 
at  the  pit,  divided  the  remainder  of  the  booty,  as 
equally  as  might  be,  among  us,  and,  leaving  the 
holes  unfilled,  again  set  out  for  the  hut,  at  which, 
for  the  second  time,  we  deposited  our  golden  bur 
dens,  just  as  the  first  faint  streaks  of  the  dawn 
gleamed  from  over  the  tree-tops  in  the  East. 

We  were  now  thoroughly  broken  down;  but  the 
intense  excitement  of  the  time  denied  us  repose. 
After  an  unquiet  slumber  of  some  three  or  four 
hours'  duration,  we  arose,  as  if  by  preconcert,  to 
make  examination  of  our  treasure. 

The  chest  had  been  full  to  the  brim,  and  we  spent 
the  whole  day,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  next 
night,  in  a  scrutiny  of  its  contents.  There  had  been 
nothing  like  order  or  arrangement.  Everything  had 
been  heaped  in  promiscuously.  Having  assorted  all 
with  care,  we  found  ourselves  possessed  of  even 
vaster  wealth  than  we  had  at  first  supposed.  In 


The  Gold-Bug  153 

coin,  there  was  rather  more  than  four  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars — estimating  the  value  of  the 
pieces,  as  accurately  as  we  could,  by  the  tables  of  the 
period.  There  was  not  a  particle  of  silver.  All 
was  gold  of  antique  date  and  of  great  variety — 
French,  Spanish,  and  German  money,  with  a  few 
English  guineas,  and  some  counters,  of  which  we 
had  never  seen  specimens  before.  There  were  sev 
eral  very  large  and  heavy  coins,  so  worn  that  we 
could  make  nothing  of  their  inscriptions.  There 
was  no  American  money.  The  value  of  the  jewels 
we  found  more  difficulty  in  estimating.  There  were 
diamonds — some  of  them  exceedingly  large  and  fine 
— a  hundred  and  ten  in  all,  and  not  one  of  them 
small;  eighteen  rubies  of  remarkable  brilliancy; — 
three  hundred  and  ten  emeralds,  all  very  beautiful; 
and  twenty-one  sapphires,  with  an  opal.  These 
stones  had  all  been  broken  from  their  settings  and 
thrown  loose  in  the  chest.  The  settings  themselves, 
which  we  picked  out  from  among  the  other  gold, 
appeared  to  have  been  beaten  up  with  hammers, 
as  if  to  prevent  identification.  Besides  all  this, 
there  was  a  vast  quantity  of  solid  gold  ornaments; 
nearly  two  hundred  massive  finger  and  earrings; 
rich  chains — thirty  of  these,  if  I  remember;  eighty- 
three  very  large  and  heavy  crucifixes ;  five  gold  cen 
sers  of  great  value;  a  prodigious  golden  punch-bowl, 
ornamented  with  richly  chased  vine-leaves  and  Bac 
chanalian  figures;  with  two  sword-handles  exqui- 


154        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

sitely  embossed,  and  many  other  smaller  articles 
which  I  can  not  recollect.  The  weight  of  these  val 
uables  exceeded  three  hundred  and  fifty  pounds 
avoirdupois;  and  in  this  estimate  I  have  not  in 
cluded  one  hundred  and  ninety-seven  superb  gold 
watches ;  three  of  the  number  being  worth  each  five 
hundred  dollars,  if  one.  Many  of  them  were  very 
old,  and  as  timekeepers,  valueless ;  the  works  having 
suffered,  more  or  less,  from  corrosion — but  all  were 
richly  jewelled  and  in  cases  of  great  worth.  We 
estimated  the  entire  contents  of  the  chest,  that 
night,  at  a  million  and  a  half  of  dollars;  and  upon 
the  subsequent  disposal  of  the  trinkets  and  jewels 
(a  few  being  retained  for  our  own  use),  it  was 
found  that  we  had  greatly  undervalued  the  treasure. 

When,  at  length,  we  had  concluded  our  examina 
tion,  and  the  intense  excitement  of  the  time  had,  in 
some  measure,  subsided,  Legrand,  who  saw  that  I 
was  dying  with  impatience  for  a  solution  of  this 
most  extraordinary  riddle,  entered  into  a  full  detail 
of  all  the  circumstances  connected  with  it. 

"You  remember,"  said  he,  "the  night  when  I 
handed  you  the  rough  sketch  I  had  made  of  the 
scarabaeus.  You  recollect,  also,  that  I  became  quite 
vexed  at  you  for  insisting  that  my  drawing  resem 
bled  a  death's-head.  When  you  first  made  this  as 
sertion  I  thought  you  were  jesting;  but  afterward 
I  called  to  mind  the  peculiar  spots  on  the  back  of 
the  insect,  and  admitted  to  myself  that  your  remark 


The  Gold-Bug  155 

had  some  little  foundation  in  fact.  Still,  the  sneer 
at  my  graphic  powers  irritated  me — for  I  am  con 
sidered  a  good  artist — and,  therefore,  when  you 
handed  me  the  scrap  of  parchment,  I  was  about  to 
crumple  it  up  and  throw  it  angrily  into  the  fire." 

"The  scrap  of  paper,  you  mean,"  said  I. 

"No;  it  had  much  of  the  appearance  of  paper, 
and  at  first  I  supposed  it  to  be  such,  but  when  I  came 
to  draw  upon  it,  I  discovered  it  at  once  to  be  a  piece 
of  very  thin  parchment.  It  was  quite  dirty,  you  re 
member.  Well,  as  I  was  in  the  very  act  of  crum 
pling  it  up,  my  glance  fell  upon  the  sketch  at  which 
you  had  been  looking,  and  you  may  imagine  my  as 
tonishment  when  I  perceived,  in  fact,  the  figure  of  a 
death's-head  just  where,  it  seemed  to  me,  I  had 
made  the  drawing  of  the  beetle.  For  a  moment  I 
was  too  much  amazed  to  think  with  accuracy.  I 
knew  that  my  design  was  very  different  in  detail 
from  this — although  there  was  a  certain  similarity 
in  general  outline.  Presently  I  took  a  candle,  and 
seating  myself  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  pro 
ceeded  to  scrutinize  the  parchment  more  closely. 
Upon  turning  it  over,  I  saw  my  own  sketch  upon  the 
reverse,  just  as  I  had  made  it.  My  first  idea,  now, 
was  mere  surprise  at  the  really  remarkable  similarity 
of  outline — at  the  singular  coincidence  involved  in 
the  fact  that,  unknown  to  me,  there  should  have 
been  a  skull  upon  the  other  side  of  the  parchment, 
immediately  beneath  my  figure  of  the  scarabaeus, 


156        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

and  that  this  skull,  not  only  in  outline,  but  in  size 
should  so  closely  resemble  my  drawing.  I  say  the 
singularity  of  this  coincidence  absolutely  stupefied 
me  for  a  time.  This  is  the  usual  effect  of  such  coin 
cidences.  The  mind  struggles  to  establish  a  con 
nection — a  sequence  of  cause  and  effect — and,  being 
unable  to  do  so,  suffers  a  species  of  temporary  pa 
ralysis.  But,  when  I  recovered  from  this  stupor, 
there  dawned  upon  me  gradually  a  conviction  which 
startled  me  even  far  more  than  the  coincidence. 
I  began  distinctly,  positively,  to  remember  that 
there  had  been  no  drawing  upon  the  parchment 
when  I  made  my  sketch  of  the  scarabaeus.  I  became 
perfectly  certain  of  this ;  for  I  recollected  turning  up 
first  one  side  and  then  the  other,  in  search  of  the 
cleanest  spot.  Had  the  skull  been  then  there,  of 
course  I  could  not  have  failed  to  notice  it.  Here 
was  indeed  a  mystery  which  I  felt  it  impossible  to 
explain;  but,  even  at  that  early  moment,  there 
seemed  to  glimmer,  faintly,  within  the  most  remote 
and  secret  chambers  of  my  intellect,  a  glow-worm- 
like  conception  of  that  truth  which  last  night's  ad 
venture  brought  to  so  magnificent  a  demonstration. 
I  arose  at  once,  and,  putting  the  parchment  securely 
away,  dismissed  all  further  reflection  until  I  should 
be  alone. 

"When  you  had  gone,  and  when  Jupiter  was  fast 
asleep,  I  betook  myself  to  a  more  methodical  investi 
gation  of  the  affair.  In  the  first  place,  I  considered 


The  Gold-Bug  157 

the  manner  in  which  the  parchment  had  come  into 
my  possession.  The  spot  where  we  discovered  the 
scarabaeus  was  on  the  coast  of  the  mainland,  about 
a  mile  eastward  of  the  island,  and  but  a  short  dis 
tance  above  high-water  mark.  Upon  my  taking  hold 
of  it,  it  gave  me  a  sharp  bite,  which  caused  me  to 
let  it  drop.  Jupiter,  with  his  accustomed  caution, 
before  seizing  the  insect,  which  had  flown  toward 
him,  looked  about  him  for  a  leaf,  or  something  of 
that  nature,  by  which  to  take  hold  of  it.  It  was  at 
this  moment  that  his  eyes,  and  mine  also,  fell  upon 
the  scrap  of  parchment,  which  I  then  supposed  to  be 
paper.  It  was  lying  half  buried  in  the  sand,  a  cor 
ner  sticking  up.  Near  the  spot  where  we  found  it, 
I  observed  the  remnants  of  the  hull  of  what  ap 
peared  to  have  been  a  ship's  long-boat,  The  wreck 
seemed  to  have  been  there  for  a  very  great  while;  for 
the  resemblance  to  boat  timbers  could  scarcely  be 
traced. 

"Well,  Jupiter  picked  up  the  parchment,  wrapped 
the  beetle  in  it,  and  gave  it  to  me.  Soon  afterward 
we  turned  to  go  home,  and  on  the  way  met  Lieuten 
ant  G .  I  showed  him  the  insect,  and  he  begged 

me  to  let  him  take  it  to  the  fort.  Upon  my  con 
senting,  he  thrust  it  forthwith  into  his  waistcoat 
pocket,  without  the  parchment  in  which  it  had  been 
wrapped,  and  which  I  had  continued  to  hold  in  my 
hand  during  his  inspection.  Perhaps  he  dreaded 
my  changing  my  mind,  and  thought  it  best  to  make 


158         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

sure  of  the  prize  at  once — you  know  how  enthu 
siastic  he  is  on  all  subjects  connected  with  Natural 
History.  At  the  same  time,  without  being  con 
scious  of  it,  I  must  have  deposited  the  parchment  in 
my  own  pocket. 

"You  remember  that  when  I  went  to  the  table 
for  the  purpose  of  making  a  sketch  of  the  beetle, 
I  found  no  paper  where  it  was  usually  kept.  I 
looked  in  the  drawer,  and  found  none  there.  I 
searched  my  pockets,  hoping  to  find  an  old  letter, 
when  my  hand  fell  upon  the  parchment.  I  thus  de 
tail  the  precise  mode  in  which  it  came  into  my  pos 
session;  for  the  circumstances  impressed  me  with 
peculiar  force. 

"No  doubt  you  will  think  me  fanciful — but  I  had 
already  established  a  kind  of  connection.  I  had  put 
together  two  links  of  a  great  chain.  There  was  a 
boat  lying  upon  a  seacoast,  and  not  far  from  the 
boat  was  a  parchment — not  a  paper — with  a  skull 
depicted  upon  it.  You  will,  of  course,  ask  'where  is 
the  connection?'  I  reply  that  the  skull,  or  death's- 
head,  is  the  well-known  emblem  of  the  pirate.  The 
flag  of  the  death's-head  is  hoisted  in  all  engage 
ments. 

"I  have  said  that  the  scrap  was  parchment,  and 
not  paper.  Parchment  is  durable — almost  imperish 
able.  Matters  of  little  moment  are  rarely  consigned 
to  parchment ;  since,  for  the  mere  ordinary  purposes 
of  drawing  or  writing,  it  is  not  nearly  so  well 


The  Gold-Bug  159 

adapted  as  paper.  This  reflection  suggested  some 
meaning — some  relevancy — in  the  death's-head.  I 
did  not  fail  to  observe,  also,  the  form  of  the  parch 
ment.  Although  one  of  its  corners  had  been,  by 
some  accident,  destroyed,  it  could  be  seen  that  the 
original  form  was  oblong.  It  was  just  such  a  slip, 
indeed,  as  might  have  been  chosen  for  a  memo 
randum — for  a  record  of  something  to  be  long  re 
membered  and  carefully  preserved." 

"But,"  I  interposed,  "you  say  that  the  skull  was 
not  upon  the  parchment  when  you  made  the  drawing 
of  the  beetle.  How  then  do  you  trace  any  connec 
tion  between  the  boat  and  the  skull — since  this  lat 
ter,  according  to  your  own  admission,  must  have 
been  designed  (God  only  knows  how  or  by  whom) 
at  some  period  subsequent  to  your  sketching  the 
scarabaem?" 

"Ah,  hereupon  turns  the  whole  mystery ;  although 
the  secret,  at  this  point,  I  had  comparatively  little 
difficulty  in  solving.  My  steps  were  sure,  and  could 
afford  but  a  single  result.  I  reasoned,  for  example, 
thus:  When  I  drew  the  scarabaeus,  there  was  no 
skull  apparent  upon  the  parchment.  When  I  had 
completed  the  drawing  I  gave  it  to  you,  and  ob 
served  you  narrowly  until  you  returned  it.  You, 
therefore,  did  not  design  the  skull,  and  no  one  else 
was  present  to  do  it.  Then  it  was  not  done  by  hu 
man  agency.  And  nevertheless  it  was  done. 

"At  this  stage  of  my  reflections  I  endeavored  to 


160        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

remember,  and  did  remember,  with  entire  distinct 
ness,  every  incident  which  occurred  about  the  period 
in  question.  The  weather  was  chilly  (oh,  rare  and 
happy  accident!),  and  a  fire  was  blazing  upon  the 
hearth.  I  was  heated  with  exercise  and  sat  near 
the  table.  You,  however,  had  drawn  a  chair  close 
to  the  chimney.  Just  as  I  placed  the  parchment  in 
your  hand,  and  as  you  were  in  the  act  of  inspect 
ing  it,  Wolf,  the  Newfoundland,  entered,  and  leaped 
upon  your  shoulders.  With  your  left  hand  you 
caressed  him  and  kept  him  off,  while  your  right, 
holding  the  parchment,  was  permitted  to  fall  list 
lessly  between  your  knees,  and  in  close  proximity  to 
the  fire.  At  one  moment  I  thought  the  blaze  had 
caught  it,  and  was  about  to  caution  you,  but,  before 
I  could  speak,  you  had  withdrawn  it,  and  were  en 
gaged  in  its  examination.  When  I  considered  all 
these  particulars,  I  doubted  not  for  a  moment  that 
heat  had  been  the  agent  in  bringing  to  light,  upon 
the  parchment,  the  skull  which  I  saw  designed  upon 
it.  You  are  well  aware  that  chemical  preparations 
exist,  and  have  existed  time  out  of  mind,  by  means 
of  which  it  is  possible  to  write  upon  either  paper  or 
vellum,  so  that  the  characters  shall  become  visible 
only  when  subjected  to  the  action  of  fire.  Zaffre, 
digested  in  aqua  regia,  and  diluted  with  four  times 
its  weight  of  water,  is  sometimes  employed ;  a  green 
tint  results.  The  regulus  of  cobalt,  dissolved  in 
spirit  of  nitre,  gives  a  red.  These  colors  disappear 


The  Gold-Bug  161 

at  longer  or  shorter  intervals  after  the  material  writ 
ten  upon  cools,  but  again  become  apparent  upon  the 
reapplication  of  heat. 

"I  now  scrutinized  the  death's-head  with  care. 
Its  outer  edges — the  edges  of  the  drawing  nearest 
the  edge  of  the  vellum — were  far  more,  distinct  than 
the  others.  It  was  clear  that  the  action  of  the  ca 
loric  had  been  imperfect  or  unequal.  I  immediately 
kindled  a  fire,  and  subjected  every  portion  of  the 
parchment  to  a  glowing  heat.  At  first,  the  only 
effect  was  the  strengthening  of  the  faint  lines  in  the 
skull ;  but,  upon  persevering  in  the  experiment,  there 
became  visible,  at  the  corner  of  the  slip,  diagonally 
opposite  to  the  spot  in  which  the  death's-head  was 
delineated,  the  figure  of  what  I  at  first  supposed  to 
be  a  goat.  A  closer  scrutiny,  however,  satisfied  me 
that  it  was  intended  for  a  kid." 

"Ha !  ha !"  said  I,  "to  be  sure  I  have  no  right 
to  laugh  at  you — a  million  and  a  half  of  money  is 
too  serious  a  matter  for  mirth — but  you  are  not 
about  to  establish  a  third  link  in  your  chain — you 
will  not  find  any  especial  connection  between  your 
pirates  and  a  goat — pirates,  you  know,  have  noth 
ing  to  do  with  goats ;  they  appertain  to  the  farming 
interest." 

"But  I  have  just  said  that  the  figure  was  not  that 
of  a  goat." 

"Well,  a  kid,  then — pretty  much  the  same  thing." 

"Pretty  much,  but  not  altogether,"  said  Legrand. 


1 62        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

"You  may  have  heard  of  one  Captain  Kidd.  I  at 
once  looked  upon  the  figure  of  the  animal  as  a  kind 
of  punning  or  hieroglyphical  signature.  I  say  sig 
nature,  because  its  position  upon  the  vellum  sug 
gested  this  idea.  The  death's-head  at  the  corner 
diagonally  opposite,  had,  in  the  same  manner,  the  air 
of  a  stamp,  or  seal.  But  I  was  sorely  put  out  by 
the  absence  of  all  else — of  the  body  to  my  imagined 
instrument — of  the  text  for  my  context." 

"I  presume  you  expected  to  find  a  letter  between 
the  stamp  and  the  signature." 

"Something  of  that  kind.  The  fact  is,  I  felt  ir 
resistibly  impressed  with  a  presentiment  of  some  vast 
good  fortune  impending.  I  can  scarcely  say  why. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  rather  a  desire  than  an 
actual  belief; — but  do  you  know  that  Jupiter's  silly 
words,  about  the  bug  being  of  solid  gold,  had  a  re 
markable  effect  upon  my  fancy  ?  And  then  the  series 
of  accidents  and  coincidents — these  were  so  very  ex 
traordinary.  Do  you  observe  how  mere  an  accident 
it  was  that  these  events  should  have  occurred  upon 
the  sole  day  of  all  the  year  in  which  it  has  been,  or 
may  be  sufficiently  cool  for  fire,  and  that  without 
the  fire,  or  without  the  intervention  of  the  dog  at 
the  precise  moment  in  which  he  appeared,  I  should 
never  have  become  aware  of  the  death's-head,  and  so 
never  the  possessor  of  the  treasure  ?" 

"But  proceed — I  am  all  impatience." 

"Well;   you  have  heard,   of  course,   the  many 


The  Gold-Bug  163 

stories  current — the  thousand  vague  rumors  afloat 
about  money  buried,  somewhere  upon  the  Atlantic 
coast,  by  Kidd  and  his  associates.  These  rumors 
must  have  had  some  foundation  in  fact.  And  that 
the  rumors  have  existed  so  long  and  so  continuous 
ly,  could  have  resulted,  it  appeared  to  me,  only  from 
the  circumstance  of  the  buried  treasures  still  remain 
ing  entombed.  Had  Kidd  concealed  his  plunder  for 
a  time,  and  afterward  reclaimed  it,  the  rumors  would 
scarcely  have  reached  us  in  their  present  unvary 
ing  form.  You  will  observe  that  the  stories  told 
are  all  about  money-seekers,  not  about  money-find 
ers.  Had  the  pirate  recovered  his  money,  there  the 
affair  would  have  dropped.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
some  accident — say  the  loss  of  a  memorandum  in 
dicating  its  locality — had  deprived  him  of  the  means 
of  recovering  it,  and  that  this  accident  had  become 
known  to  his  followers,  who  otherwise  might  never 
have  heard  that  the  treasure  had  been  concealed  at 
all,  and  who,  busying  themselves  in  vain,  because 
unguided,  attempts  to  regain  it,  had  given  first 
birth,  and  then  universal  currency,  to  the  reports 
which  are  now  so  common.  Have  you  ever  heard 
of  any  important  treasure  being  unearthed  along  the 
coast?" 

"Never." 

"But  that  Kidd's  accumulations  were  immense, 
is  well  known.  I  took  it  for  granted,  therefore, 
that  the  earth  still  held  thern ;  and  you  will  scarcely 


164         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

be  surprised  when  I  tell  you  that  I  felt  a  hope, 
nearly  amounting  to  certainty,  that  the  parchment 
so  strangely  found  involved  a  lost  record  of  the 
place  of  deposit." 

"But  how  did  you  proceed?" 

"I  held  the  vellum  again  to  the  fire,  after  increas 
ing  the  heat,  but  nothing  appeared.  I  now  thought 
it  possible  that  the  coating  of  dirt  might  have  some 
thing  to  do  with  the  failure  :  so  I  carefully  rinsed  the 
parchment  by  pouring  warm  water  over  it,  and,  hav 
ing  done  this,  I  placed  it  in  a  tin  pan,  with  the  skull 
downward,  and  put  the  pan  upon  a  furnace  of 
lighted  charcoal.  In  a  few  minutes,  the  pan  having 
become  thoroughly  heated,  I  removed  the  slip,  and, 
to  my  inexpressible  joy,  found  it  spotted,  in  several 
places,  with  what  appeared  to  be  figures  arranged  in 
lines.  Again  I  placed  it  in  the  pan,  and  suffered 
it  to  remain  another  minute.  Upon  taking  it  off, 
the  whole  was  just  as  you  see  it  now." 

Here  Legrand,  having  reheated  the  parchment, 
submitted  it  to  my  inspection.  The  following  char 
acters  were  rudely  traced,  in  a  red  tint,  between  the 
death's-head  and  the  goat: 


;46(;88*96*?;8)n(  J485)  ;5*t2:*t(;4956*2(5*-4)8f  8*  14069285);) 
6f8)4tt  ;i  (ft  :48o8i  ;8  :8Ji  ^BfSS  ;4)485t5288o6*Si  (ft  ;48  ;(88  ;4(t?3 
4J48)4$;i6i;:i88#?;" 

"But,"  said  I,  returning  him  the  slip,  'T  am  as 
much  in  the  dark  as  ever.     Were  all  the  jewels  of 


The  Gold-Bug  165 

Golconda  awaiting  me  upon  my  solution  of  this 
enigma,  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  should  be  unable  to 
earn  them." 

"And  yet,"  said  Legrand,  "the  solution  is  by  no 
means  so  difficult  as  you  might  be  led  to  imagine 
from  the  first  hasty  inspection  of  the  characters. 
These  characters,  as  any  one  might  readily  guess, 
form  a  cipher — that  is  to  say,  they  convey  a  mean 
ing;  but  then  from  what  is  known  of  Kidd,  I  could 
not  suppose  him  capable  of  constructing  any  of  the 
more  abstruse  cryptographs.  I  made  up  my  mind, 
at  once,  that  this  was  of  a  simple  species — such, 
however,  as  would  appear,  to  the  crude  intellect  of 
the  sailor,  absolutely  insoluble  without  the  key." 

"And  you  really  solved  it?" 

"Readily ;  I  have  solved  others  of  an  abstruseness 
ten  thousand  times  greater.  Circumstances,  and  a 
certain  bias  of  mind,  have  led  me  to  take  interest  in 
such  riddles,  and  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether 
human  ingenuity  can  construct  an  enigma  of  the 
kind  which  human  ingenuity  may  not,  by  proper  ap 
plication,  resolve.  In  fact,  having  once  established 
connected  and  legible  characters,  I  scarcely  gave  a 
thought  to  the  mere  difficulty  of  developing  their 
import. 

"In  the  present  case — indeed,  in  all  cases  of  se 
cret  writing — the  first  question  regards  the  language 
of  the  cipher;  for  the  principles  of  solution,  so  far, 
especially,  as  the  more  simple  ciphers  are  concerned, 


1 66         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

depend  upon,  and  are  varied  by,  the  genius  of  the 
particular  idiom.  In  general,  there  is  no  alterna 
tive  but  experiment  (directed  by  probabilities)  of 
every  tongue  known  to  him  who  attempts  the  solu 
tion,  until  the  true  one  be  attained.  But,  with  the 
cipher  now  before  us  all  difficulty  was  removed  by 
the  signature.  The  pun  upon  the  word  'Kidd'  is 
appreciable  in  no  other  language  than  the  English. 
But  for  this  consideration  I  should  have  begun  my 
attempts  with  Spanish  and  French,  as  the  tongues 
in  which  a  secret  of  this  kind  would  most  naturally 
have  been  written  by  a  pirate  of  the  Spanish  main. 
As  it  was,  I  assumed  the  cryptograph  to  be  English. 
"You  observe  there  are  no  divisions  between  the 
words.  Had  there  been  divisions  the  task  would 
have  been  comparatively  easy.  In  such  cases  I 
should  have  commenced  with  a  collation  and  analy 
sis  of  the  shorter  words,  and,  had  a  word  of  a  single 
letter  occurred,  as  is  most  likely  (a  or  /,  for  exam 
ple),  I  should  have  considered  the  solution  as  as 
sured.  But,  there  being  no  division,  my  first  step 
was  to  ascertain  the  predominant  letters,  as  well  as 
the  least  frequent.  Counting  all,  I  constructed  a 
table  thus: 

Of  the  characters  8  there  are  33. 

26. 


4 

6 


12. 
II. 


The  Gold-Bug  167 

o  6. 

92  5- 

4- 
3- 

2. 
I. 

"Now,  in  English,  the  letter  which  most  fre 
quently  occurs  is  e.  Afterward,  the  succession  runs 
thus  :aoidhnrstuycfglmwbkpqxz.  E 
predominates  so  remarkably,  that  an  individual  sen 
tence  of  any  length  is  rarely  seen,  in  which  it  is  not 
the  prevailing  character. 

"Here,  then,  we  have,  in  the  very  beginning,  the 
groundwork  for  something  more  than  a  mere  guess. 
The  general  use  which  may  be  made  of  the  table  is 
obvious — but,  in  this  particular  cipher,  we  shall  only 
very  partially  require  its  aid.  As  our  predominant 
character  is  8,  we  will  commence  by  assuming  it  as 
the  e  of  the  natural  alphabet.  To  verify  the  sup 
position,  let  us  observe  if  the  8  be  seen  often  in 
couples — for  e  is  doubled  with  great  frequency  in 
English — in  such  words,  for  example,  as  'meet/ 
'fleet/  'speed/  'seen/  'been/  'agree/  etc.  In  the 
present  instance  we  see  it  doubled  no  less  than  five 
times,  although  the  cryptograph  is  brief. 

"Let  us  assume  8,  then,  as  e.  Now,  of  all  words 
in  the  language,  'the'  is  most  usual ;  let  us  see,  there 
fore,  whether  there  are  not  repetitions  of  any  three 
characters,  in  the  same  order  of  collocation,  the  last 
of  them  being  8.  If  we  discover  repetitions  of  such 
letters,  so  arranged,  they  will  most  probably  repre- 


1 68         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

sent  the  word  'the.'  Upon  inspection,  we  find  no 
less  than  seven  such  arrangements,  the  characters 
being  548.  We  may,  therefore,  assume  that  ;  repre 
sents  t,  4  represents  &,.and  8  represents  e — the  last 
being  now  well  confirmed.  Thus  a  great  step  has 
been  taken. 

"But,  having  established  a  single  word,  we  are  en 
abled  to  establish  a  vastly  important  point;  that  is 
to  say,  several  commencements  and  terminations  of 
other  words.  Let  us  refer,  for  example,  to  the  last 
instance  but  one,  in  which  the  combination  548  oc 
curs — not  far  from  the  end  of  the  cipher.  We  know 
that  the;  immediately  ensuing  is  the  commencement 
of  a  word,  and,  of  six  characters  succeeding  this 
'the,'  we  are  cognizant  of  no  less  than  five.  Let  us 
set  these  characters  down,  thus,  by  the  letters  we 
know  them  to  represent,  leaving  a  space  for  the  un 
known—  teeth 

"Here  we  are  enabled,  at  once,  to  discard  the  fth' 
as  forming  no  portion  of  the  word  commencing  with 
the  first  t;  since,  by  experiment  of  the  entire  alphabet 
for  a  letter  adapted  to  the  vacancy,  we  perceive  that 
no  word  can  be  formed  of  which  this  th  can  be  a 
part.  We  are  thus  narrowed  into 

tee, 

and,  going  through  the  alphabet,  if  necessary,  as  be 
fore,  we  arrive  at  the  word  'tree/  as  the  sole  possi 
ble  reading.  We  thus  gain  another  letter,  r,  repre- 


The  Gold-Bug  169 

sented  by  (,  with  the  words  'the  tree'  in  juxtaposi 
tion. 

"Looking  beyond  these  words,  for  a  short  dis 
tance,  we  again  see  the  combination  548,  and  employ 
it  by  way  of  termination  to  what  immediately  pre 
cedes.     We  have  thus  this  arrangement: 
the  tree  ^(t?34  the, 

or,  substituting  the  natural  letters,  where  known, 

it  reads  thus : 

the  tree  thrj:?3h  the. 

"Now,  if,  in  the  place  of  the  unknown  characters, 
we  leave  blank  spaces,  or  substitute  dots,  we  read 

t"us  '  the  tree  thr...h  the, 

when  the  word  'through'  makes  itself  evident  at 
once.  But  this  discovery  gives  us  three  new  let 
ters,  o,  u,  and  gf  represented  by  J,  ?,  and  3. 

"Looking  now,  narrowly,  through  the  cipher  for 
combinations  of  known  characters,  we  find,  not  very 
far  irom  the  beginning,  this  arrangement, 
83(88,  or  egree, 

which  plainly,  is  the  conclusion  of  the  word  'degree/ 
and  gives  us  another  letter,  df  represented  by  f . 

"Four  letters  beyond  the  word  'degree,'  we  per 
ceive  .the  combination 

;46(;88 

"Translating  the  known  characters,  and  repre 
senting  the  unknown  by  dots,  as  before,  we  read 
thus: 

I— Poe— 8 


170        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

th.rtee, 

an  arrangement  immediately  suggestive  of  the  word 
'thirteen/  and  again  furnishing  us  with  two  new 
characters,  i  and  n,  represented  by  6  and  *. 

"Referring,  now,  to  the  beginning  of  the  crypto 
graph,  we  find  the  combination, 


"Translating  as  before,  we  obtain 

.good, 

which  assures  us  that  the  first  letter  is  A,  and  that 
the  first  two  words  are  *A  good.' 

"It  is  now  time  that  we  arrange  our  key,  as  far 
as  discovered,  in  a  tabular  form,  to  avoid  confusion. 
It  will  stand  thus  : 


5   represents  a 

t 

d 

8 

e 

3 

g 

4 

h 

6 

i 

* 

n 

I 

0 

r 

I 

t 

? 

u 

"We  have,  therefore,  no  less  than  eleven  of  the 
most  important  letters  represented,  and  it  will  be 
unnecessary  to  proceed  with  the  details  of  the  solu 
tion.  I  have  said  enough  to  convince  you  that  ci 
phers  of  this  nature  are  readily  soluble,  and  to  give 
you  some  insight  into  the  rationale  of  their  develop 
ment.  But  be  assured  that  the  specimen  before  us 


The  Gold-Bug  171 

appertains  to  the  very  simplest  species  of  crypto 
graph.  It  now  only  remains  to  give  you  the  full 
translation  of  the  characters  upon  the  parchment, 
as  unriddled.  Here  it  is : 

'  1A  good  glass  in  the  bishop's  hostel  in  the  devil's 
seat  forty-one  degrees  and  thirteen  minutes  north 
east  and  by  north  main  branch  seventh  limb  east  side 
shoot  from  the  left  eye  of  the  death's-head  a  bee-line 
from  the  tree  through  the  shot  fifty  feet  out.' " 

"But,"  said  I,  "the  enigma  seems  still  in  as  bad 
a  condition  as  ever.  How  is  it  possible  to  extort  a 
meaning  from  all  this  jargon  about  'devil's  seats/ 
'death's-head/  and  'bishop's  hotels?'  " 

"I  confess,"  replied  Legrand,  "that  the  matter  still 
wears  a  serious  aspect,  when  regarded  with  a  casual 
glance.  My  first  endeavor  was  to  divide  the  sen 
tence  into  the  natural  division  intended  by  the  cryp- 
tographist." 

"You  mean,  to  punctuate  it?" 

"Something  of  that  kind." 

"But  how  was  it  possible  to  effect  this?" 

"I  reflected  that  it  had  been  a  point  with  the 
writer  to  run  his  words  together  without  division3 
so  as  to  increase  the  difficulty  of  solution.  Now, 
a  not  over-acute  man,  in  pursuing  such  an  object, 
would  be  nearly  certain  to  overdo  the  matter.  When, 
in  the  course  of  his  composition,  he  arrived  at  a 
break  in  his  subject  which  would  naturally  require 


172         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

a  pause,  or  a  point,  he  would  be  exceedingly  apt  to 
run  his  characters,  at  this  place,  more  than  usually 
close  together.  If  you  will  observe  the  MS.,  in  the 
present  instance,  you  will  easily  detect  five  such  cases 
of  unusual  crowding.  Acting  upon  this  hint,  I  made 
the  division  thus: 

''  'A  good  glass  in  the  bishop's  hostel  in  the  devil's 
seat — forty-one  degrees  and  thirteen  minutes — 
northeast  and  by  north — main  branch  seventh  limb 
east  side — shoot  from  the  left  eye  of  the  death's- 
head — a  bee-line  from  the  tree  through  the  shot  fifty 
feet  out.' " 

"Even  this  division/'  said  I,  "leaves  me  still  in 
the  dark." 

"It  left  me  also  in  the  dark,"  replied  Legrand, 
"for  a  few  days;  during  which  I  made  diligent  in 
quiry  in  the  neighborhood  of  Sullivan's  Island,  for 
any  building  which  went  by  name  of  the  'Bishop's 
Hotel';  for,  of  course,  I  dropped  the  obsolete  word 
'hostel.'  Gaining  no  information  on  the  subject,  I 
was  on  the  point  of  extending  my  sphere  of  search, 
and  proceeding  in  a  more  systematic  manner,  when, 
one  morning,  it  entered  into  my  head,  quite  sud 
denly,  that  this  'Bishop's  Hostel'  might  have  some 
reference  to  an  old  family,  of  the  name  of  Bessop, 
which,  time  out  of  mind,  had  held  possession  of  an 
ancient  manor-house,  about  four  miles  to  the  north 
ward  of  the  island.  I  accordingly  went  over  to  the 


The  Gold-Bug  173 

plantation,  and  reinstituted  my  inquiries  among  the 
older  negroes  of  the  place.  At  length  one  of  the 
most  aged  of  the  women  said  that  she  had  heard  of 
such  a  place  as  Bessop's  Castle,  and  thought  that  she 
could  guide  me  to  it,  but  that  it  was  not  a  castle,  nor 
a  tavern,  but  a  high  rock. 

"I  offered  to  pay  her  well  for  her  trouble,  and, 
after  some  demur,  she  consented  to  accompany  me 
to  the  spot.  We  found  it  without  much  difficulty, 
when,  dismissing  her,  I  proceeded  to  examine  the 
place.  The  'castle'  consisted  of  an  irregular  assem 
blage  of  cliffs  and  rocks — one  of  the  latter  being 
quite  remarkable  for  its  height  as  well  as  for  its  in 
sulated  and  artificial  appearance.  I  clambered  to 
its  apex,  and  then  felt  much  at  a  loss  as  to  what 
should  be  next  done. 

"While  I  was  busied  in  reflection,  my  eyes  fell 
upon  a  narrow  ledge  in  the  eastern  face  of  the  rock, 
perhaps  a  yard  below  the  summit  upon  which  I 
stood.  This  ledge  projected  about  eighteen  inches, 
and  was  not  more  than  a  foot  wide,  while  a  niche  in 
the  cliff  just  above  it  gave  it  a  rude  resemblance  to 
one  of  the  hollow-backed  chairs  used  by  our  ances 
tors.  I  made  no  doubt  that  here  was  the  'devfl's- 
seaf  alluded  to  in  the  MS.,  and  now  I  seemed  to 
grasp  the  full  secret  of  the  riddle. 

"The  'good  glass/  I  knew,  could  have  reference 
to  nothing  but  a  telescope;  for  the  word  'glass*  is 
rarely  employed  in  any  other  sense  by  seamen.  Now 


174         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

here,  I  at  once  saw,  was  a  telescope  to  be  used,  and 
a  definite  point  of  view,  admitting  no  variation,  from 
which  to  use  it.  Nor  did  I  hesitate  to  believe  that 
the  phrases,  'forty-one  degrees  and  thirteen  minutes/ 
and  'northeast  and  by  north/  were  intended  as  di 
rections  for  the  levelling  of  the  glass.  Greatly  ex 
cited  by  these  discoveries,  I  hurried  home,  procured 
a  telescope,  and  returned  to  the  rock. 

"I  let  myself  down  to  the  ledge,  and  found  that 
it  was  impossible  to  retain  a  seat  upon  it  except  in 
one  particular  position.  This  fact  confirmed  my  pre 
conceived  idea.  I  proceeded  to  use  the  glass.  Of 
course,  the  'forty-one  degrees  and  thirteen  minutes' 
could  allude  to  nothing  but  elevation  above  the  visi 
ble  horizon,  since  the  horizontal  direction  was  clearly 
indicated  by  the  words,  'northeast  and  by  north/ 
This  latter  direction  I  at  once  established  by  means 
of  a  pocket-compass;  then,  pointing  the  glass  as 
nearly  at  an  angle  of  forty-one  degrees  of  elevation 
as  I  could  do  it  by  guess,  I  moved  it  cautiously  up  or 
down,  until  my  attention  was  arrested  by  a  circular 
rift  or  opening  in  the  foliage  of  a  large  tree  that 
overtopped  its  fellows  in  the  distance.  In  the  cen 
tre  of  this  rift  I  perceived  a  white  spot,  but  could 
not,  at  first,  distinguish  what  it  was.  Adjusting  the 
focus  of  the  telescope,  I  again  looked,  and  now  made 
it  out  to  be  a  human  skull. 

"Upon  this  discovery  I  was  so  sanguine  as  to  con 
sider  the  enigma  solved ;  for  the  phrase  'main  branch, 


The  Gold-Bug  175 

seventh  limb,  east  side/  could  refer  only  to  the  posi 
tion  of  the  skull  upon  the  tree,  while  'shoot  from  the 
left  eye  of  the  death's-head'  admitted,  also,  of  but 
one  interpretation,  in  regard  to  a  search  for  buried 
treasure.  I  perceived  that  the  design  was  to  drop 
a  bullet  from  the  left  eye  of  the  skull,  and  that  a 
bee-line,  or,  in  other  words,  a  straight  line,  drawn 
from  the  nearest  point  of  the  trunk  through  the  shot 
(or  the  spot  where  the  bullet  fell),  and  thence  ex 
tended  to  a  distance  of  fifty  feet,  would  indicate  a 
definite  point — and  beneath  this  point  I  thought  it 
at  least  possible  that  a  deposit  of  value  lay  con 
cealed." 

"All  this,"  I  said,  "is  exceedingly  clear,  and,  al 
though  ingenious,  still  simple  and  explicit.  When 
you  left  the  Bishop's  Hotel,  what  then?" 

"Why,  having  carefully  taken  the  bearings  of  the 
tree,  I  turned  homeward.  The  instant  that  I  left 
'the  devil's-seat,'  however,  the  circular  rift  vanished ; 
nor  could  I  get  a  glimpse  of  it  afterward,  turn  as  I 
would.  What  seems  to  me  the  chief  ingenuity  in 
this  whole  business,  is  the  fact  (for  repeated  experi 
ment  has  convinced  me  it  is  a  fact)  that  the  circular 
opening  in  question  is  visible  from  no  other  attain 
able  point  of  view  than  that  afforded  by  the  narrow 
ledge  upon  the  face  of  the  rock. 

"In  this  expedition  to  the  'Bishop's  Hotel'  I  had 
been  attended  by  Jupiter,  who  had,  no  doubt,  ob 
served,  for  some  weeks  past,  the  abstraction  of  my 


176        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

demeanor,  and  took  especial  care  not  to  leave  me 
alone.  But,  on  the  next  day,  getting  up  very  early, 
I  contrived  to  give  him  the  slip,  and  went  into  the 
hills  in  search  of  the  tree.  After  much  toil  I  found 
it.  When  I  came  home  at  night  my  valet  proposed 
to  give  me  a  flogging.  With  the  rest  of  the  adven 
ture  I  believe  you  are  as  well  acquainted  as  my 
self." 

"I  suppose,"  said  I,  "you  missed  the  spot,  in  the 
first  attempt  at  digging,  through  Jupiter's  stupidity 
in  letting  the  bug  fall  through  the  right  instead  of 
through  the  left  eye  of  the  skull." 

"Precisely.  This  mistake  made  a  difference  of 
about  two  inches  and  a  half  in  the  'shot' — that  is 
to  say,  in  the  position  of  the  peg  nearest  the  tree; 
and  had  the  treasure  been  beneath  the  'shot/  the 
error  would  have  been  of  little  moment;  but  'the 
shot/  together  with  the  nearest  point  of  the  tree, 
were  merely  two  points  for  the  establishment  of  a 
line  of  direction ;  of  course,  the  error,  however  triv 
ial  in  the  beginning,  increased  as  we  proceeded  with 
the  line,  and  by  the  time  we  had  gone  fifty  feet 
threw  us  quite  off  the  scent.  But  for  my  deep-seated 
impressions  that  treasure  was  here  somewhere  ac 
tually  buried,  we  might  have  had  all  our  labor  in 
vain." 

"But  your  grandiloquence,  and  your  conduct  in 
swinging  the  beetle — how  excessively  odd!  I  was 
sure  you  were  mad.  And  why  did  you  insist  upon 


The  Gold-Bug  177 

letting  fall  the  bug,  instead  of  a  bullet,  from  the 
skull?" 

"Why,  to  be  frank,  I  felt  somewhat  annoyed  by 
your  evident  suspicions  touching  my  sanity,  and  so 
resolved  to  punish  you  quietly,  in  my  own  way,  by 
a  little  bit  of  sober  mystification.  For  this  reason  I 
swung  the  beetle,  and  for  this  reason  I  let  it  fall 
from  the  tree.  An  observation  of  yours  about  its 
great  weight  suggested  the  latter  idea." 

"Yes,  I  perceive;  and  now  there  is  only  one  point 
which  puzzles  me.  What  are  we  to  make  of  the 
skeletons  found  in  the  hole?" 

"That  is  a  question  I  am  no  more  able  to  answer 
than  yourself.  There  seems,  however,  only  one 
plausible  way  of  accounting  for  them — and  yet  it 
is  dreadful  to  believe  in  such  atrocity  as  my  sugges 
tion  would  imply.  It  is  clear  that  Kidd — if  Kidd 
indeed  secreted  this  treasure,  which  I  doubt  not — it 
is  clear  that  he  must  have  had  assistance  in  the 
labor.  But  this  labor  concluded,  he  may  have 
thought  it  expedient  to  remove  all  participants  in  his 
secret.  Perhaps  a  couple  of  blows  with  a  mattock 
were  sufficient,  while  his  coadjutors  were  busy  in  the 
pit;  perhaps  it  required  a  dozen — who  shall  tell?" 


FOUR    BEASTS    IN    ONE 

THE    HOMO-CAMELEOPARD 

Chacun  a  ses  vertus. 

— Crebillon's  Xerxes. 

A  NTIOCHUS  EPIPHANES  is  very  generally 
/*  looked  upon  as  the  Gog  of  the  prophet  Eze- 
kiel.  This  honor  is,  however,  more  properly  attrib 
utable  to  Cambyses,  the  son  of  Cyrus.  And,  in 
deed,  the  character  of  the  Syrian  monarch  does  15y 
no  means  stand  in  need  of  any  adventitious  embel 
lishment.  His  accession  to  the  throne,  or  rather  his 
usurpation  of  the  sovereignty,  a  hundred  and  sev 
enty-one  years  before  the  coming  of  Christ ;  his  at 
tempt  to  plunder  the  temple  of  Diana  at  Ephesus; 
his  implacable  hostility  to  the  Jews ;  his  pollution  of 
the  Holy  of  Holies;  and  his  miserable  death  at 
Taba,  after  a  tumultuous  reign  of  eleven  years,  are 
circumstances  of  a  prominent  kind,  and  therefore 
more  generally  noticed  by  the  historians  of  his  time 
than  the  impious,  dastardly,  cruel,  silly,  and  whimsi 
cal  achievements  which  make  up  the  sum  total  of  his 
private  life  and  reputation. 

Let  us  suppose,  gentle  reader,  that  it  is  now  the 
year  of  the  world  three  thousand  eight  hundred  and 


Four  Beasts  in  One  179 

thirty,  and  let  us,  for  a  few  minutes,  imagine  our 
selves  at  that  most  grotesque  habitation  of  man,  the 
remarkable  city  of  Antioch.  To  be  sure  there  were, 
in  Syria  and  other  countries,  sixteen  cities  of  that 
appellation,  besides  the  one  to  which  I  more  partic 
ularly  allude.  But  ours  is  that  which  went  by  the 
name  of  Antiochia  "Epidaphne,  from  its  vicinity  to 
the  little  village  of  Daphne,  where  stood  a  temple  to 
that  divinity.  It  was  built  (although  about  this 
matter  there  is  some  dispute)  by  Seleucus  Nicanor, 
the  first  king  of  the  country  after  Alexander  the 
Great,  in  memory  of  his  father,  Antiochus,  and  be 
came  immediately  the  residence  of  the  Syrian  mon 
archy.  In  the  flourishing  times  of  the  Roman  Em 
pire  it  was  the  ordinary  station  of  the  prefect  of  the 
eastern  provinces ;  and  many  of  the  emperors  of  the 
Queen  city  (among  whom  may  be  mentioned,  espe 
cially,  Verus  and  Valens)  spent  here  the  greater  part 
of  their  time.  But  I  perceive  we  have  arrived  at  the 
city  itself.  Let  us  ascend  this  battlement,  and  throw 
our  eyes  upon  the  town  and  neighboring  country. 

"What  broad  and  rapid  river  is  that  which  forces 
its  way,  with  innumerable  falls,  through  the  moun 
tainous  wilderness,  and  finally  through  the  wilder 
ness  of  buildings?" 

That  is  the  Orontes,  and  it  is  the  only  water  in 
sight,  with  the  exception  of  the  Mediterranean, 
which  stretches,  like  a  broad  mirror,  about  twelve 
miles  off  to  the  southward.  Every  one  has  seen  the 


180        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

Mediterranean;  but  let  me  tell  you,  there  are  few 
who  have  had  a  peep  at  Antioch.  By  few,  I  mean, 
few  who,  like  you  and  me,  have  had,  at  the  same 
time,  the  advantages  of  a  modern  education.  There 
fore  cease  to  regard  that  sea,  and  give  your  whole 
attention  to  the  mass  of  houses  that  lie  beneath  us. 
You  will  remember  that  it  is  now  the  year  of  the 
world  three  thousand  eight  hundred  and  thirty. 
Were  it  later — for  example,  were  it  the  year  of  our 
Lord  eighteen  hundred  and  forty-five — we  should 
be  deprived  of  this  extraordinary  spectacle.  In  the 
nineteenth  century  Antioch  is — that  is  to  say,  An 
tioch  will  be — in  a  lamentable  state  of  decay.  It 
will  have  been,  by  that  time,  totally  destroyed,  at 
three  different  periods,  by  three  successive  earth 
quakes.  Indeed,  to  say  the  truth,  what  little  of  its 
former  self  may  then  remain,  will  be  found  in  so 
desolate  and  ruinous  a  state  that  the  patriarch  shall 
have  removed  his  residence  to  Damascus.  This  is 
well.  I  see  you  profit  by  my  advice,  and  are  mak 
ing  the  most  of  your  time  in  inspecting  the  premises 
— in 

satisfying  your  eyes 

With  the  memorials  and  the  things  of  fame 
That  most  renown  this  city. 

I  beg  pardon;  I  had  forgotten  that  Shakespeare 
will  not  flourish  for  seventeen  hundred  and  fifty 
years  to  come.  But  does  not  the  appearance  of 
Epidaphne  justify  me  in  calling  it  grotesque? 


Four  Beasts  in  One  181 

"It  is  well  fortified ;  and  in  this  respect  is  as  much 
indebted  to  nature  as  to  art." 

Very  true. 

"There  are  a  prodigious  number  of  stately  pal 
aces/' 

There  are. 

"And  the  numerous  temples,  sumptuous  and  mag 
nificent,  may  bear  comparison  with  the  most  lauded 
of  antiquity." 

All  this  I  must  acknowledge.  Still,  there  is  an 
infinity  of  mud  huts,  and  abominable  hovels.  We 
cannot  help  perceiving  abundance  of  filth  in  every 
kennel,  and,  were  it  not  for  the  overpowering  fumes 
of  idolatrous  incense,  I  have  no  doubt  we  should 
find  a  most  intolerable  stench.  Did  you  ever  behold 
streets  so  insufferably  narrow,  or  houses  so  miracu 
lously  tall  ?  What  a  gloom  their  shadows  cast  upon 
the  ground !  It  is  well  the  swinging  lamps  in  those 
endless  colonnades  are  kept  burning  throughout  the 
day;  we  should  otherwise  have  the  darkness  of 
Egypt  in  the  time  of  her  desolation. 

"It  is  certainly  a  strange  place!  What  is  the 
meaning  of  yonder  singular  building  ?  See !  it  tow 
ers  above  all  others,  and  lies  to  the  eastward  of  what 
I  take  to  be  the  royal  palace !" 

That  is  the  new  Temple  of  the  Sun,  who  is  adored 
in  Syria  under  the  title  of  Elah  Gabalah.  Hereafter 
a  very  notorious  Roman  emperor  will  institute  this 
worship  in  Rome,  and  thence  derive  a  cognomen, 


1 82        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

Heliogabalus.  I  dare  say  you  would  like  to  take 
a  peep  at  the  divinity  of  the  temple.  You  need  not 
look  up  at  the  heavens ;  his  Sunship  is  not  there — at 
least  not  the  Sunship  adored  by  the  Syrians.  That 
deity  will  be  found  in  the  interior  of  yonder  building. 
He  is  worshipped  under  the  figure  of  a  large  stone 
pillar  terminating  at  the  summit  in  a  cone  or  pyra 
mid,  whereby  is  denoted  Fire. 

"Hark! — behold! — who  can  those  ridiculous  be 
ings  be,  half  naked,  with  their  faces  painted,  shout 
ing  and  gesticulating  to  the  rabble?" 

Some  few  are  mountebanks.  Others  more  par 
ticularly  belong  to  the  race  of  philosophers.  The 
greatest  portion,  however — those  especially  who  be 
labor  the  populace  with  clubs — are  the  principal 
courtiers  of  the  palace,  executing,  as  in  duty  bound, 
some  laudable  comicality  of  the  king's. 

"But  what  have  we  here  ?  Heavens  I  the  town  is 
swarming  with  wild  beasts!  How  terrible  a  spec 
tacle! — how  dangerous  a  peculiarity!" 

Terrible  if  you  please;  but  not  in  the  least  degree 
dangerous.  Each  animal,  if  you  will  take  the  pains 
to  observe,  is  following,  very  quietly,  in  the  wake  of 
its  master.  Some  few,  to  be  sure,  are  led  with  a 
rope  about  the  neck,  but  these  are  chiefly  the  lesser 
or  timid  species.  The  lion,  the  tiger,  and  the  leop 
ard  are  entirely  without  restraint.  They  have  been 
trained  without  difficulty  to  their  present  profession, 
and  attend  upon  their  respective  owners  in  the  capac- 


Four  Beasts  in  One  183 

ity  of  valets-de-chambre.  It  is  true,  there  are  occa 
sions  when  Nature  asserts  her  violated  dominion; 
— but  then  the  devouring  of  a  man-at-arms,  or  the 
throttling  of  a  consecrated  bull,  is  a  circumstance  of 
too  little  moment  to  be  more  than  hinted  at  in 
Epidaphne. 

"But  what  extraordinary  tumult  do  I  hear? 
Surely  this  is  a  loud  noise  even  for  Antioch!  It 
argues  some  commotion  of  unusual  interest." 

Yes — undoubtedly.  The  king  has  ordered  some 
novel  spectacle — some  gladiatorial  exhibition  at  the 
hippodrome — or  perhaps  the  massacre  of  the  Scyth 
ian  prisoners — or  the  conflagration  of  his  new  palace 
— or  the  tearing  down  of  a  handsome  temple — or, 
indeed,  a  bonfire  of  a  few  Jews.  The  uproar  in 
creases.  Shouts  of  laughter  ascend  the  skies.  The 
air  becomes  dissonant  with  wind  instruments,  and 
horrible  with  the  clamor  of  a  million  throats.  Let 
us  descend,  for  the  love  of  fun,  and  see  what  is  go 
ing  on!  This  way — be  careful!  Here  we  are  in 
the  principal  street,  which  is  called  the  street  of  Ti- 
marchus.  The  sea  of  people  is  coming  this  way,  and 
we  shall  find  a  difficulty  in  stemming  the  tide.  They 
are  pouring  through  the  alley  of  Heraclides,  which 
leads  directly  from  the  palace — therefore  the  king  is 
most  probably  among  the  rioters.  Yes — I  Hear  the 
shouts  of  the  herald  proclaiming  his  approach  in  the 
pompous  phraseology  of  the  East.  We  shall  have 
a  glimpse  of  his  person  as  he  passes  by  the  temple  of 


184        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

Ashimah.  Let  us  ensconce  ourselves  in  the  vesti 
bule  of  the  sanctuary ;  he  will  be  here  anon.  In  the 
meantime  let  us  survey  this  image.  What  is  it? 
Oh !  it  is  the  god  Ashimah  in  proper  person.  You 
perceive,  however,  that  he  is  neither  a  lamb,  nor  a 
goat,  nor  a  satyr;  neither  has  he  much  resemblance 
to  the  Pan  of  the  Arcadians.  Yet  all  these  appear 
ances  have  been  given — I  beg  pardon — will  be  given 
— by  the  learned  of  future  ages,  to  the  Ashimah  of 
the  Syrians.  Put  on  your  spectacles,  and  tell  me 
what  it  is.  What  is  it? 

"Bless  me!  it  is  an  ape!" 

True — a  baboon;  but  by  no  means  the  less  a 
deity.  His  name  is  a  derivation  of  the  Greek 
Simia — what  great  fools  are  antiquarians!  But 
see ! — see ! — yonder  scampers  a  ragged  little  urchin. 
Where  is  he  going?  What  is  he  bawling  about? 
What  does  he  say  ?  Oh !  he  says  the  king  is  coming 
in  triumph ;  that  he  is  dressed  in  state ;  that  he  has 
just  finished  putting  to  death,  with  his  own  hand,  a 
thousand  chained  Israelitish  prisoners!  For  this 
exploit  the  ragamuffin  is  lauding  him  to  the  skies ! 
Hark !  here  comes  a  troop  of  a  similar  description. 
They  have  made  a  Latin  hymn  upon  the  valor  of  the 
king,  and  are  singing  it  as  they  go : 

Mille,  mille,  mille, 

Mille,  mille,  mille, 

Decollavimus,  unus  homo! 

Mille,  mille,  mille,  mille,  decollavimus ! 


Four  Beasts  in  One  185 

Mille,  mille,  mille, 
Vivat  qui  mille  mille  occidit! 
Tantum  vini  habet  nemo 
Quantum  sanguinis  effudit!* 

Which  may  be  thus  paraphrased: 

A  thousand,  a  thousand,  a  thousand, 
A  thousand,  a  thousand,  a  thousand, 
We,  with  one  warrior,  have  slain ! 
A  thousand,  a  thousand,  a  thousand,  a  thousand. 
Sing  a  thousand  over  again ! 

Soho! — let  us  sing 

Long  life  to  our  king, 
Who  knocked  over  a  thousand  so  fine ! 

Soho ! — let  us  roar, 

He  has  given  us  more 

Red  gallons  of  gore 
Than  all  Syria  can  furnish  of  wine ! 

"Do  you  hear  that  flourish  of  trumpets?" 

Yes — the  king  is  coming!  See!  the  people  are 
aghast  with  admiration,  and  lift  up  their  eyes  to  the 
heavens  in  reverence!  He  comes! — he  is  coming! 
— there  he  is! 

"Who? — where? — the  king? — I  do  not  behold 
him; — cannot  say  that  I  perceive  him." 

Then  you  must  be  blind. 

"Very  possible.  Still,  I  see  nothing  but  a  tumul 
tuous  mob  of  idiots  and  madmen,  who  are  busy  in 
prostrating  themselves  before  a  gigantic  camelo- 

*Flavius  Vospicus  says,  that  the  hymn  here  introduced  was 
sung  by  the  rabble  upon  the  occasion  of  Aurelian,  in  the 
Sarmatic  war,  having  slain,  with  his  own  hand,  nine  hundred 
and  fifty  of  the  enemy. 


1 86         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

pard,  and  endeavoring  to  obtain  a  kiss  of  the  animal's 
hoofs !  See!  the  beast  has  very  justly  kicked  one  of 
the  rabble  over — and  another — and  another — and 
another.  Indeed,  I  can  not  help  admiring  the  animal 
for  the  excellent  use  he  is  making  of  his  feet." 

Rabble,  indeed ! — why,  these  are  the  noble  and 
free  citizens  of  Epidaphne !  Beast,  did  you  say  ? — 
take  care  that  you  are  not  overheard.  Do  you  not 
perceive  that  the  animal  has  the  visage  of  a  man? 
Why,  my  dear  sir,  that  camelopard  is  no  other  than 
Antiochus  Epiphanes — Antiochus  the  Illustrious, 
King  of  Syria,  and  the  most  potent  of  all  the  auto 
crats  of  the  East!  It  is  true,  that  he  is  entitled,  at 
times,  Antiochus  Epimanes — Antiochus  the  madman 
— but  that  is  because  all  people  have  not  the  capacity 
to  appreciate  his  merits.  It  is  also  certain  that  he 
is  at  present  ensconced  in  the  hide  of  a  beast,  and  is 
doing  his  best  to  play  the  part  of  a  camelopard ;  but 
this  is  done  for  the  better  sustaining  his  dignity  as 
king.  Besides,  the  monarch  is  of  gigantic  stature, 
and  the  dress  is  therefore  neither  unbecoming  nor 
over  large.  We  may,  however,  presume  he  would 
not  have  adopted  it  but  for  some  occasion  of  especial 
state.  Such,  you  will  allow,  is  the  massacre  of  a 
thousand  Jews.  With  how  superior  a  dignity  the 
monarch  perambulates  on  all  fours!  His  tail,  you 
perceive,  is  held  aloft  by  his  two  principal  concu 
bines,  Elline  and  Argelais ;  and  his  whole  appearance 
would  be  infinitely  prepossessing,  were  it  not  for  the 


Four  Beasts  in  One  187 

protuberance  of  his  eyes,  which  will  certainly  start 
out  of  his  head,  and  the  queer  color  of  his  face, 
which  has  become  nondescript  from  the  quantity  of 
wine  he  has  swallowed.  Let  us  follow  him  to  the 
hippodrome,  whither  he  is  proceeding,  and  listen  to 
the  song  of  triumph  which  he  is  commencing : 

Who  is  king  but  Epiphanes? 

Say — do  you  know? 
Who  is  king  but  Epiphanes? 

Bravo ! — bravo ! 
There  is  none  but  Epiphanes, 

No — there  is  none :  * 

So  tear  down  the  temples, 

And  put  out  the  sun! 

Well  and  strenuously  sung!  The  populace  are 
hailing  him  "Prince  of  Poets,"  as  well  as  "Glory  of 
the  East,"  "Delight  of  the  Universe,"  and  "Most 
Remarkable  of  Camelopards."  They  have  encored 
his  effusion,  and — do  you  hear? — he  is  singing  it 
over  again.  When  he  arrives  at  the  hippodrome, 
he  will  be  crowned  with  the  poetic  wreath,  in  antici 
pation  of  his  victory  at  the  approaching  Olympics. 

"But,  good  Jupiter!  what  is  the  matter  in  the 
crowd  behind  us?" 

Behind  us,  did  you  say? — oh!  ah! — I  perceive. 
My  friend,  it  is  well  that  you  spoke  in  time.  Let 
us  get  into  a  place  of  safety  as  soon  as  possible. 
Here! — let  us  conceal  ourselves  in  the  arch  of  this 
aqueduct,  and  I  will  inform  you  presently  of  the 
origin  of  the  commotion.  It  has  turned  out  as  I 


1 88         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

have  been  anticipating.  The  singular  appearance  of 
the  camelopard  with  the  head  of  a  man,  has,  it 
seems,  given  offence  to  the  notions  of  propriety  en 
tertained  in  general  by  the  wild  animals  domesti 
cated  in  the  city.  A  mutiny  has  been  the  result; 
and,  as  is  usual  upon  such  occasions,  all  human 
efforts  will  be  of  no  avail  in  quelling  the  mob.  Sev 
eral  of  the  Syrians  have  already  been  devoured ;  but 
the  general  voice  of  the  four-footed  patriots  seems 
to  be  for  eating  up  the  camelopard.  "The  Prince 
of  Poets,"  therefore,  is  upon  his  hinder  legs  run 
ning  for  his  life.  His  courtiers  have  left  him  in  the 
lurch,  and  his  concubines  have  followed  so  excellent 
an  example.  "Delight  of  the  Universe,"  thou  art 
in  a  sad  predicament!  "Glory  of  the  East,"  thou 
art  in  danger  of  mastication!  Therefore  never  re 
gard  so  piteously  thy  tail;  it  will  undoubtedly  be 
draggled  in  the  mud,  and  for  this  there  is  no  help. 
Look  not  behind  thee,  then,  at  its  unavoidable  degra 
dation;  but  take  courage,  ply  thy  legs  with  vigor, 
and  scud  for  the  hippodrome !  Remember  that  thou 
art  Antiochus  Epiphanes.  Antiochus  the  Illustri 
ous!— also  "Prince  of  Poets,"  "Glory  of  the  East," 
"Delight  of  the  Universe,"  and  "Most  Remarkable 
of  Camelopards !"  Heavens!  what  a  power  of 
speed  thou  art  displaying!  What  a  capacity  for 
leg-bail  thou  art  developing!  Run,  Prince! — 
Bravo,  Epiphanes !  — Well  done,  Camelopard !  — 
Glorious  Antiochus! — He  runs! — he  leaps! — he 


Four  Beasts  in  One  189 

flies !  Like  an  arrow  from  a  catapult  he  approaches 
the  hippodrome!  He  leaps! — he  shrieks! — he  is 
there !  This  is  well ;  for  hadst  thou,  "Glory  of  the 
East,"  been  half  a  second  longer  in  reaching  the 
gates  of  the  amphitheatre,  there  is  not  a  bear's  cub 
in  Epidaphne  that  would  not  have  had  a  nibble  at 
thy  carcass.  Let  us  be  off — let  us  take  our  depart 
ure  ! — for  we  shall  find  our  delicate  modern  ears  un 
able  to  endure  the  vast  uproar  which  is  about  to  com 
mence  in  celebration  of  the  king's  escape!  Listen! 
it  has  already  commenced.  See! — the  whole  town 
is  topsy-turvy. 

"Surely  this  is  the  most  populous  city  of  the 
East !  What  a  wilderness  of  people !  What  a  jum 
ble  of  all  ranks  and  ages!  What  a  multiplicity  of 
sects  and  nations !  what  a  variety  of  costumes !  what 
a  Babel  of  languages!  what  a  screaming  of  beasts! 
what  a  tinkling  of  instruments!  what  a  parcel  of 
philosophers !" 

Come,  let  us  be  off. 

"Stay  a  moment!  I  see  a  vast  hubbub  in  the 
hippodrome;  what  is  the  meaning  of  it,  I  besee'ch 
you?" 

That  ? — oh,  nothing !  The  noble  and  free  citizens 
of  Epidaphne  being,  as  they  declare,  well  satisfied 
of  the  faith,  valor,  wisdom,  and  divinity  of  their 
king,  and  having,  moreover,  been  eye-witnesses  of 
his  late  superhuman  agility,  do  think  it  no  more 
than  their  duty  to  invest  his  brows  (in  addition  to 


190        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

the  poetic  crown)  with  the  wreath  of  victory  in  the 
foot-race — a  wreath  which  it  is  evident  he  must  ob 
tain  at  the  celebration  of  the  next  Olympiad,  and 
which,  therefore,  they  now  give  him  in  advance. 


THE  MURDERS  IN  THE  RUE  MORGUE 

What  song  the  Syrens  sang,  or  what  name  Achilles  as 
sumed  when  he  hid  himself  among  women,  although  puzzling 
questions,  are  not  beyond  all  conjecture. 

— Sir  Thomas  Browne 

HPHE  mental  features  discoursed  of  as  the  analyti- 
•l  cal,  are,  in  themselves,  but  little  susceptible  of 
analysis.  We  appreciate  them  only  in  their  effects. 
We  know  of  them,  among  other  things,  that  they 
are  always  to  their  possessor,  when  inordinately  pos 
sessed,  a  source  of  the  liveliest  enjoyment.  As  the 
strong  man  exults  in  his  physical  ability,  delighting 
in  such  exercises  as  call  his  muscles  into  action,  so 
glories  the  analyst  in  that  moral  activity  which 
disentangles.  He  derives  pleasure  from  even  the 
most  trivial  occupations  bringing  his  talent  into 
play.  He  is  fond  of  enigmas,  of  conundrums,  hiero 
glyphics  ;  exhibiting  in  his  solutions  of  each  a  degree 
of  acumen  which  appears  to  the  ordinary  apprehen 
sion  preternatural.  His  results,  brought  about  by 
the  very  soul  and  essence  of  method,  have,  in  truth, 
the  whole  air  of  intuition. 

The  faculty  of  resolution  is  possibly  much  invig 
orated  by  mathematical  study,  and  especially  by  that 
highest  branch  of  it  which,  unjustly,  and  merely  on 
account  of  its  retrograde  operations,  has  been  called, 
as  if  par  excellence,  analysis.  Yet  to  calculate  is 


192         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

not  in  itself  to  analyze.  A  chess-player,  for  exam 
ple,  does  the  one,  without  effort  at  the  other.  It 
follows  that  the  game  of  chess,  in  its  effects  upon 
mental  character,  is  greatly  misunderstood.  I  am 
not  now  writing  a  treatise,  but  simply  prefacing  a 
somewhat  peculiar  narrative  by  observations  very 
much  at  random;  I  will,  therefore,  take  occasion  to 
assert  that  the  higher  powers  of  the  reflective  in 
tellect  are  more  decidedly  and  more  usefully  tasked 
by  the  unostentatious  game  of  draughts  than  by  all 
the  elaborate  frivolity  of  chess.  In  this  latter,,  where 
the  pieces  have  different  and  bizarre  motions,  with 
various  and  variable  values,  what  is  only  complex, 
is  mistaken  (a  not  unusual  error)  for  what  is  pro 
found.  The  attention  is  here  called  powerfully  into 
play.  If  it  flag  for  an  instant,  an  oversight  is  com 
mitted,  resulting  in  injury  or  defeat.  The  possible 
moves  being  not  only  manifold,  but  involute,  the 
chances  of  such  oversights  are  multiplied;  and  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten,  it  is  the  more  concentrative 
rather  than  the  more  acute  player  who  conquers. 
In  draughts,  on  the  contrary,  where  the  moves  are 
unique  and  have  but  little  variation,  the  probabili 
ties  of  inadvertence  are  diminished,  and  the  mere 
attention  being  left  comparatively  unemployed,  what 
advantages  are  obtained  by  either  party  are  ob 
tained  by  superior  acumen.  To  be  less  abstract,  let 
us  suppose  a  game  of  draughts  where  the  pieces  are 
reduced  to  four  kings,  and  where,  of  course,  no 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     193 

oversight  is  to  be  expected.  It  is  obvious  that  here 
the  victory  can  be  decided  (the  players  being  at  all 
equal)  only  by  some  recherche  movement,  the  result 
of  some  strong  exertion  of  the  intellect.  Deprived 
of  ordinary  resources,  the  analyst  throws  himself 
into  the  spirit  of  his  opponent,  identifies  himself 
therewith,  and  not  unfrequently  sees  thus,  at  a 
glance,  the  sole  methods  (sometimes  indeed  absurdly 
simple  ones)  by  which  he  may  seduce  into  error  or 
hurry  into  miscalculation. 

Whist  has  long  been  known  for  its  influence  upon 
what  is  termed  the  calculating  power;  and  men  of 
the  highest  order  of  intellect  have  been  known  to 
take  an  apparently  unaccountable  delight  in  it,  while 
eschewing  chess  as  frivolous.  Beyond  doubt  there 
is  nothing  of  a  similar  nature  so  greatly  tasking  the 
faculty  of  analysis.  The  best  chess  player  in  Christ 
endom  may  be  little  more  than  the  best  player  of 
chess;  but  proficiency  in  whist  implies  capacity  for 
success  in  all  these  more  important  undertakings 
where  mind  struggles  with  mind.  When  I  say  pro 
ficiency,  I  mean  that  perfection  in  the  game  which 
includes  a  comprehension  of  all  the  sources  whence 
legitimate  advantage  may  be  derived.  These  are 
not  only  manifold,  but  multiform,  and  lie  frequently 
among  recesses  of  thought  altogether  inaccessible  to 
the  ordinary  understanding.  To  observe  attentively 
is  to  remember  distinctly;  and,  so  far,  the  concen- 
trative  chess-player  will  do  very  well  at  whist; 


I— Poe— 9 


194         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

while  the  rules  of  Hoyle  (themselves  based  upon  the 
mere  mechanism  of  the  game)  are  sufficiently  and 
generally  comprehensible.  Thus  to  have  a  reten 
tive  memory,  and  proceed  by  "the  book,"  are  points 
commonly  regarded  as  the  sum  total  of  good  play 
ing.  But  it  is  in  matters  beyond  the  limits  of  mere 
rule  that  the  skill  of  the  analyst  is  evinced.  He 
makes,  in  silence,  a  host  of  observations  and  infer 
ences.  So,  perhaps,  do  his  companions ;  and  the  dif 
ference  in  the  extent  of  the  information  obtained, 
lies  not  so  much  in  the  validity  of  the  inference  as  in 
the  quality  of  the  observation.  The  necessary 
knowledge  is  that  of  what  to  observe.  Our  player 
confines  himself  not  at  all ;  nor,  because  the  game  is 
the  object,  does  he  reject  deductions  from  things 
external  to  the  game.  He  examines  the  countenance 
of  his  partner,  comparing  it  carefully  with  that  of 
each  of  his  opponents.  He  considers  the  mode  of 
assorting  the  cards  in  each  hand;  often  counting 
trump  by  trump,  and  honor  by  honor,  through  the 
glances  bestowed  by  their  holders  upon  each.  He 
notes  every  variation  of  face  as  the  play  progresses, 
gathering  a  fund  of  thought  from  the  differences 
in  the  expression  of  certainty,  of  surprise,  of  tri 
umph,  or  chagrin.  From  the  manner  of  gathering 
up  a  trick  he  judges  whether  the  person  taking  it 
can  make  another  in  the  suit.  He  recognizes  what 
is  played  through  feint,  by  the  manner  with  which 
it  is  thrown  upon  the  table.  A  casual  or  inadvert- 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     195 

ent  word;  the  accidental  dropping  or  turning  of  a 
card,  with  the  accompanying  anxiety  or  carelessness 
in  regard  to  its  concealment;  the  counting  of  the 
tricks,  with  the  order  of  their  arrangement;  embar 
rassment,  hesitation,  eagerness,  or  trepidation — all 
afford,  to  his  apparently  intuitive  perception,  indica 
tions  of  the  true  state  of  affairs.  The  first  two  or 
three  rounds  having  been  played,  he  is  in  full  pos 
session  of  the  contents  of  each  hand,  and  thencefor 
ward  puts  down  his  cards  with  as  absolute  a  pre 
cision  of  purpose  as  if  the  rest  of  the  party  had 
turned  outward  the  faces  of  their  own. 

The  analytical  power  should  not  be  confounded 
with  simple  ingenuity;  for  while  the  analyst  is  nec 
essarily  ingenious,  the  ingenious  man  is  often  re 
markably  incapable  of  analysis.  The  constructive 
or  combining  power,  by  which  ingenuity  is  usually 
manifested,  and  to  which  the  phrenologists  (I  be 
lieve  erroneously)  have  assigned  a  separate  organ, 
supposing  it  a  primitive  faculty,  has  been  so  fre 
quently  seen  in  those  whose  intellect  bordered  other 
wise  upon  idiocy,  as  to  have  attracted  general  obser 
vation  among  writers  on  morals.  Between  ingenu 
ity  and  the  analytic  ability  there  exists  a  difference 
far  greater,  indeed,  than  that  between  the  fancy, 
and  the  imagination,  but  of  a  character  very  strictly 
analogous.  It  will  be  found,  in  fact,  that  the  in 
genious  are  always  fanciful,  and  the  truly  imagina 
tive  never  otherwise  than  analytic. 


196         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

The  narrative  which  follows  will  appear  to  the 
reader  somewhat  in  the  light  of  a  commentary 
upon  the  propositions  just  advanced. 

Residing  in  Paris  during  the  spring  and  part  of 
the  summer  of  18 — ,  I  there  became  acquainted  with 
a  Monsieur  C.  Auguste  Dupin.  This  young  gen 
tleman  was  of  an  excellent,  indeed  of  an  illustrious 
family,  but,  by  a  variety  of  untoward  events,  had 
been  reduced  to  such  poverty  that  the  energy  of  his 
character  succumbed  beneath  it,  and  he  ceased  to  be 
stir  himself  in  the  world,  or  to  care  for  the  retrieval 
of  his  fortunes.  By  courtesy  of  his  creditors,  there 
still  remained  in  his  possession  a  small  remnant  of 
his  patrimony;  and,  upon  the  income  arising  from 
this,  he  managed,  by  means  of  a  rigorous  economy, 
to  procure  the  necessaries  of  life,  without  troubling 
himself  about  its  superfluities.  Books,  indeed,  were 
his  sole  luxuries,  and  in  Paris  these  are  easily  ob 
tained. 

Our  first  meeting  was  at  an  obscure  library  in  the 
Rue  Montmartre,  where  the  accident  of  our  both  be 
ing  in  search  of  the  same  very  rare  and  very  re 
markable  volume,  brought  us  into  closer  communion. 
We  saw  each  other  again  and  again.  I  was  deeply 
interested  in  the  little  family  history  which  he  de 
tailed  to  me  with  all  that  candor  which  a  French 
man  indulges  whenever  mere  self  is  the  theme.  I 
was  astonished,  too,  at  the  vast  extent  of  his  read 
ing;  and,  above  all,  I  felt  my  soul  enkindled  within' 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     197 

me  by  the  wild  fervor,  and  the  vivid  freshness  of  his 
imagination.  Seeking  in  Paris  the  objects  I  then 
sought,  I  felt  that  the  society  of  such  a  man  would 
be  to  me  a  treasure  beyond  price;  and  this  feeling 
I  frankly  confided  to  him.  It  was  at  length  arranged 
that  we  should  live  together  during  my  stay  in  the 
city;  and  as  my  worldly  circumstances  were  some 
what  less  embarrassed  than  his  own,  I  was  permitted 
to  be  at  the  expense  of  renting,  and  furnishing  in 
a  style  which  suited  the  rather  fantastic  gloom  of 
our  common  temper,  a  time-eaten  and  grotesque 
mansion,  long  deserted  through  superstitions  into 
which  we  did  not  inquire,  and  tottering  to  its  fall 
in  a  retired  and  desolate  portion  of  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain. 

Had  the  routine  of  our  life  at  this  place  been 
known  to  the  world,  we  should  have  been  regarded 
as  madmen — although,  perhaps,  as  madmen  of  a 
harmless  nature.  Our  seclusion  was  perfect.  We 
admitted  no  visitors.  Indeed,  the  locality  of  our 
retirement  had  been  carefully  kept  a  secret  from  my 
own  former  associates ;  and  it  had  been  many  years 
since  Dupin  had  ceased  to  know  or  be  known  in 
Paris.  We  existed  within  ourselves  alone. 

It  was  a  freak  of  fancy  in  my  friend  (for  what 
else  shall  I  call  it  ?)  to  be  enamored  of  the  night  for 
her  own  sake ;  and  into  this  bizarrerie,  as  into  all  his 
others,  I  quietly  fell;  giving  myself  up  to  his  wild 
whims  with  a  perfect  abandon.  The  sable  divinity 


198         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

would  not  herself  dwell  with  us  always;  but  we 
could  counterfeit  her  presence.  At  the  first  dawn 
of  the  morning  we  closed  all  the  massy  shutters  of 
our  old  building;  lighted  a  couple  of  tapers  which, 
strongly  perfumed,  threw  out  only  the  ghastliest  and 
feeblest  of  rays.  By  the  aid  of  these  we  then  busied 
our  souls  in  dreams — reading,  writing,  or  convers 
ing,  until  warned  by  the  clock  of  the  advent  of  the 
true  Darkness.  Then  we  sallied  forth  into  the 
streets,  arm  in  arm,  continuing  the  topics  of  the  day, 
or  roaming  far  and  wide  until  a  late  hour,  seeking, 
amid  the  wild  lights  and  shadows  of  the  populous 
city,  that  infinity  of  mental  excitement  which  quiet 
observation  can  afford. 

At  such  times  I  could  not  help  remarking  and 
admiring  (although  from  his  rich  ideality  I  had  been 
prepared  to  expect  it)  a  peculiar  analytic  ability  in 
Dupin.  He  seemed,  too,  to  take  an  eager  delight  in 
its  exercise — if  not  exactly  in  its  display — and  did 
not  hesitate  to  confess  the  pleasure  thus  derived. 
He  boasted  to  me,  with  a  low  chuckling  laugh,  that 
most  men,  in  respect  to  himself,  wore  windows  in 
their  bosoms,  and  was  wont  to  follow  up  such  as 
sertions  by  direct  and  very  startling  proofs  of  his 
intimate  knowledge  of  my  own.  His  manner  at 
these  moments  was  frigid  and  abstract ;  his  eyes  were 
vacant  in  expression ;  while  his  voice,  usually  a  rich 
tenor,  rose  into  a  treble  which  would  have  sounded 
petulant  but  for  the  deliberateness  and  entire  dis- 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     199 

tinctness  of  the  enunciation.  Observing  him  in 
these  moods,  I  often  dwelt  meditatively  upon  the 
old  philosophy  of  the  Bi-Part  Soul,  and  amused  my 
self  with  the  fancy  of  a  double  Dupin — the  creative 
and  the  resolvent. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed,  from  what  I  have  just 
said,  that  I  am  detailing  any  mystery,  or  penning 
any  romance.  What  I  have  described  in  the  French 
man  was  merely  the  result  of  an  excited,  or  perhaps 
of  a  diseased,  intelligence.  But  of  the  character  of 
his  remarks  at  the  periods  in  question  an  example 
will  best  convey  the  idea. 

We  were  strolling  one  night  down  a  long  dirty 
street,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Palais  Royal.  Being 
both,  apparently,  occupied  with  thought,  neither  of 
us  had  spoken  a  syllable  for  fifteen  minutes  at 
least.  All  at  once  Dupin  broke  forth  with  these 
words : 

"He  is  a  very  little  fellow,  that' s  true,  and  would 
do  better  for  the  Theatre  Varietes." 

"There  can  be  no  doubt  of  that,"  I  replied,  unwit 
tingly,  and  not  at  first  observing  (so  much  had  I 
been  absorbed  in  reflection)  the  extraordinary  man 
ner  in  which  the  speaker  had  chimed  in  with  my 
meditations.  In  an  instant  afterward  I  recollected 
myself,  and  my  astonishment  was  profound. 

"Dupin,"  said  I,  gravely,  "this  is  beyond  my  com 
prehension.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  I  am 
amazed,  and  can  scarcely  credit  my  senses.  How 


2oo        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

was  it  possible  you  should  know  I  was  thinking 
of — ?"  Here  I  paused,  to  ascertain  beyond  a  doubt 
whether  he  really  knew  of  whom  I  thought. 

" of  Chantilly,"  said  he,  "why  do  you 

pause?  You  were  remarking  to  yourself  that  his 
diminutive  figure  unfitted  him  for  tragedy." 

This  was  precisely  what  had  formed  the  subject 
of  my  reflections.  Chantilly  was  a  quondam  cob 
bler  of  the  Rue  St.  Dennis,  who,  becoming  stage- 
mad,  had  attempted  the  role  of  Xerxes,  in  Crebil- 
lon's  tragedy  so  called,  and  been  notoriously  Pas- 
quinaded  for  his  pains. 

"Tell  me,  for  Heaven's  sake,"  I  exclaimed,  "the 
method — if  method  there  is — by  which  you  have 
been  enabled  to  fathom  my  soul  in  this  matter." 
In  fact,  I  was  even  more  startled  than  I  would  have 
been  willing  to  express. 

"It  was  the  fruiterer,"  replied  my  friend,  "who 
brought  you  to  the  conclusion  that  the  mender  of 
soles  was  not  of  sufficient  height  for  Xerxes  et  id 
genus  omne." 

"The  fruiterer! — you  astonish  me — I  know  no 
fruiterer  whomsoever." 

"The  man  who  ran  up  against  you  as  we  entered 
the  street — it  may  have  been  fifteen  minutes  ago." 

I  now  remembered  that,  in  fact,  a  fruiterer,  carry 
ing  upon  his  head  a  large  basket  of  apples,  had 
nearly  thrown  me  down,  by  accident,  as  we  passed 
from  the  Rue  C into  the  thoroughfare  where  we 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     201 

stood ;  but  what  this  had  to  do  with  Chantilly  I  could 
not  possibly  understand. 

There  was  not  a  particle  of  charlatanerie  about 
Dupin.  "I  will  explain,"  he  said,  "and  that  you 
may  comprehend  all  clearly,  we  will  first  retrace  the 
course  of  your  meditations,  from  the  moment  in 
which  I  spoke  to  you  until  that  of  the  rencontre 
with  the  fruiterer  in  question.  The  larger  links  of 
the  chain  run  thus — Chantilly,  Orion,  Dr.  Nichols, 
Epicurus,  Stereotomy,  the  street  stones,  the  fruit 


erer." 


There  are  few  persons  who  have  not,  at  some  pe 
riod  of  their  lives,  amused  themselves  in  retracing 
the  steps  by  which  particular  conclusions  of  their 
own  minds  have  been  attained.  The  occupation  is 
often  full  of  interest ;  and  he  who  attempts  it  for  the 
first  time  is  astonished  by  the  apparently  illimitable 
distance  and  incoherence  between  the  starting-point 
and  the  goal.  What,  then,  must  have  been  my 
amazement,  when  I  heard  the  Frenchman  spc^l,- 
what  he  had  just  spoken,  and  when  I  could  not  help 
acknowledging  that  he  had  spoken  the  truth.  He 
continued : 

"We  had  been  talking  of  horses,  if  I  remember 

aright,  just  before  leaving  the  Rue  C .  This 

was  the  last  subject  we  discussed.  As  we  crossed 
into  this  street,  a  fruiterer,  with  a  large  basket  upon 
his  head,  brushing  quickly  past  us,  thrust  you  upon 
a  pile  of  paving-stones  collected  at  a  spot  where  the 


2O2         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

causeway  is  undergoing  repair.  You  stepped  upon 
one  df  the  loose  fragments,  slipped,  slightly  strained 
your  ankle,  appeared  vexed  or  sulky,  muttered  a  few 
words,  turned  to  look  at  the  pile,  and  then  proceeded 
in  silence.  I  was  not  particularly  attentive  to  what 
you  did;  but  observation  has  become  with  me,  of 
late,  a  species  of  necessity. 

"You  kept  your  eyes  upon  the  ground — glancing, 
with  a  petulant  expression,  at  the  holes  and  ruts  in 
the  pavement  (so  that  I  saw  you  were  still  thinking 
of  the  stones),  until  we  reached  the  little  alley  called 
Lamartine,  which  has  been  paved,  by  way  of  ex 
periment,  with  the  overlapping  and  riveted  blocks. 
Here  your  countenance  brightened  up,  and,  perceiv 
ing  your  lips  move,  I  could  not  doubt  that  you  mur 
mured  the  word  'stereotomy,'  a  term  very  affectedly 
applied  to  this  species  of  pavement.  I  knew  that 
you  could  not  say  to  yourself  'stereotomy'  without 
being  brought  to  think  of  atomies,  and  thus  of  the 
theories  of  Epicurus;  and  since,  when  we  discussed 
this  subject  not  very  long  ago,  I  mentioned  to  you 
how  singularly,  yet  with  how  little  notice,  the  vague 
guesses  of  that  noble  Greek  had  met  with  confirma 
tion  in  the  late  nebular  cosmogony,  I  felt  that  you 
could  not  avoid  casting  your  eyes  upward  to  the 
great  nebula  in  Orion,  and  I  certainly  expected  that 
you  would  do  so.  You  did  look  up ;  and  I  was  now 
assured  that  I  had  correctly  followed  your  steps. 
But  in  that  bitter  tirade  upon  Chantilly,  which  ap- 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     203 

peared  in  yesterday's  'Musee,'  the  satirist,  making 
some  disgraceful  allusions  to  the  cobbler's  change 
of  name  upon  assuming  the  buskin,  quoted  a  Latin 
line  about  which  we  have  often  conversed.  I  mean 

the  line 

Perdidit  antiquum  litera  prima  sonum. 

I  had  told  you  that  this  was  in  reference  to  Orion, 
formerly  written  Urion;  and,  from  certain  pungen 
cies  connected  with  this  explanation,  I  was  aware 
that  you  could  not  have  forgotten  it.  It  was  clear, 
therefore,  that  you  would  not  fail  to  combine  the 
two  ideas  of  Orion  and  Chantilly.  That  you  did 
combine  them  I  saw  by  the  character  of  the  smile 
which  passed  over  your  lips.  You  thought  of  the 
poor  cobbler's  immolation.  So  far,  you  had  been 
stooping  in  your  gait ;  but  now  I  saw  you  draw  your 
self  up  to  your  full  height.  I  was  then  sure  that 
you  reflected  upon  the  diminutive  figure  of  Chan 
tilly.  At  this  point  I  interrupted  your  meditations 
to  remark  that  as,  in  fact,  he  was  a  very  little  fellow 
— that  Chantilly — he  would  do  better  at  the  The 
atre  des  Varietes." 

Not  long  after  this,  we  were  looking  over  an  even 
ing  edition  of  the  "Gazette  des  Tribunaux,"  when 
the  following  paragraphs  arrested  our  attention. 

"Extraordinary  Murders. — This  morning,  about 
three  o'clock,  the  inhabitants  of  the  Quartier  St. 
Roch  were  roused  from  sleep  by  a  succession  of 
terrific  shrieks,  issuing,  apparently,  from  the  fourth 


204         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

story  of  a  house  in  the  Rue  Morgue,  known  to  be 
in  the  sole  occupancy  of  one  Madame  L'Espanaye, 
and  her  daughter,  Mademoiselle  Camille  L'Espa 
naye.  After  some  delay,  occasioned  by  a  fruitless 
attempt  to  procure  admission  in  the  usual  manner, 
the  gateway  was  broken  in  with  a  crowbar,  and 
eight  or  ten  of  the  neighbors  entered,  accompanied 
by  two  gendarmes.  By  this  time  the  cries  had 
ceased;  but,  as  the  party  rushed  up  the  first  flight 
of  stairs,  two  or  more  rough  voices,  in  angry  con 
tention,  were  distinguished,  and  seemed  to  proceed 
from  the  upper  part  of  the  house.  As  the  second 
landing  was  reached,  these  sounds,  also,  had  ceased, 
and  everything  remained  perfectly  quiet.  The  party 
spread  themselves,  and  hurried  from  room  to  room. 
Upon  arriving  at  a  large  back  chamber  in  the  fourth 
story  (the  door  of  which,  being  found  locked,  with 
the  key  inside,  was  forced  open),  a  spectacle  pre 
sented  itself  which  struck  every  one  present  not  less 
with  horror  than  with  astonishment. 

"The  apartment  was  in  the  wildest  disorder — the 
furniture  broken  and  thrown  about  in  all  directions. 
There  was  only  one  bedstead;  and  from  this  the 
bed  had  been  removed,  and  thrown  into  the  middle 
of  the  floor.  On  a  chair  lay  a  razor,  besmeared  with 
blood.  On  the  hearth  were  two  or  three  long  and 
thick  tresses  of  gray  human  hair,  also  dabbled  with 
blood,  and  seeming  to  have  been  pulled  out  by  the 
roots.  Upon  the  floor  were  found  four  Napoleons, 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     205 

an  earring  of  topaz,  three  large  silver  spoons,  three 
smaller  of  metal  d'Alger,  and  two  bags,  contain 
ing  nearly  four  thousand  francs  in  gold.  The  draw 
ers  of  a  bureau,  which  stood  in  one  corner,  were 
open,  and  had  been,  apparently,  rifled,  although 
many  articles  still  remained  in  them.  A  small  iron 
safe  was  discovered  under  the  bed  (not  under  the 
bedstead).  It  was  open,  with  the  key  still  in  the 
door.  It  had  no  contents  beyond  a  few  old  letters, 
and  other  papers  of  little  consequence. 

"Of  Madame  L'Espanaye  no  traces  were  here 
seen ;  but  an  unusual  quantity  of  soot  being  observed 
in  the  fireplace,  a  search  was  made  in  the  chimney, 
and  (horrible  to  relate!)  the  corpse  of  the  daughter, 
head  downward,  was  dragged  therefrom;  it  having 
been  thus  forced  up  the  narrow  aperture  for  a  con 
siderable  distance.  The  body  was  quite  warm. 
Upon  examining  it,  many  excoriations  were  per 
ceived,  no  doubt  occasioned  by  the  violence  with 
which  it  had  been  thrust  up  and  disengaged.  Upon 
the  face  were  many  severe  scratches,  and,  upon  the 
throat,  dark  bruises,  and  deep  indentations  of  finger 
nails,  as  if  the  deceased  had  been  throttled  to  death. 

"After  a  thorough  investigation  of  every  portion 
of  the  house  without  further  discovery,  the  party 
made  its  way  into  a  small  paved  yard  in  the  rear  of 
the  building,  where  lay  the  corpse  of  the  old  lady, 
with  her  throat  so  entirely  cut  that,  upon  an  at 
tempt  to  raise  her,  the  head  fell  off.  The  body,  as 


206        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

well  as  the  head,  was  fearfully  mutilated — the  for 
mer  so  much  so  as  scarcely  to  retain  any  semblance 
of  humanity. 

"To  this  horrible  mystery  there  is  not  as  yet,  we 
believe,  the  slightest  clew." 

The  next  day's  paper  had  these  additional  particu 
lars: 

"The  Tragedy  in  the  Rue  Morgue. — Many  indi 
viduals  have  been  examined  in  relation  to  this  most 
extraordinary  and  frightful  affair"  [the  word  'af 
faire'  has  not  yet,  in  France,  that  levity  of  import 
which  it  conveys  with  us],  "but  nothing  whatever 
has  transpired  to  throw  light  upon  it.  We  give 
below  all  the  material  testimony  elicited. 

"Pauline  Dubourg,  laundress,  deposes  that  she  has 
known  both  the  deceased  for  three  years,  having 
washed  for  them  during  that  period.  The  old  lady 
and  her  daughter  seemed  on  good  terms — very  af 
fectionate  toward  each  other.  They  were  excel 
lent  pay.  Could  not  speak  in  regard  to  their  mode 
or  means  of  living.  Believed  that  Madame  L.  told 
fortunes  for  a  living.  Was  reputed  to  have  money 
put  by.  Never  met  any  person  in  the  house  when 
she  called  for  the  clothes  or  took  them  home.  Was 
sure  that  they  had  no  servant  in  employ.  There 
appeared  to  be  no  furniture  in  any  part  of  the  build 
ing  except  in  the  fourth  story. 

"Pierre  Moreau,  tobacconist,  deposes  that  he  has 
been  in  the  habit  of  selling  small  quantities  of  to- 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     207 

bacco  and  snuff  to  Madame  L'Espanaye  for  nearly 
four  years.  Was  born  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
has  always  resided  there.  The  deceased  and  her 
daughter  had  occupied  the  house  in  which  the 
corpses  were  found,  for  more  than  six  years.  It 
was  formerly  occupied  by  a  jeweller,  who  under-let 
the  upper  rooms  to  various  persons.  The  house  was 
the  property  of  Madame  L.  She  became  dissatisfied 
with  the  abuse  of  the  premises  by  her  tenant,  and 
moved  into  them  herself,  refusing  to  let  any  portion. 
The  old  lady  was  childish.  Witness  had  seen  the 
daughter  some  five  or  six  times  during  the  six  years. 
The  two  lived  an  exceedingly  retired  life — were  re 
puted  to  have  money.  Had  heard  it  said  among 
the  neighbors  that  Madame  L.  told  fortunes — did 
not  believe  it.  Had  never  seen  any  person  enter 
the  door  except  the  old  lady  and  her  daughter,  a 
porter  once  or  twice,  and  a  physician  some  eight  or 
ten  times. 

"Many  other  persons,  neighbors,  gave  evidence 
to  the  same  effect.  No  one  was  spoken  of  as  fre 
quenting  the  house.  It  was  not  known  whether 
there  were  any  living  connections  of  Madame  L.  and 
her  daughter.  The  shutters  of  the  front  windows 
were  seldom  opened.  Those  in  the  rear  were  al 
ways  closed,  with  the  exception  of  the  large  back 
room,  fourth  story.  The  house  was  a  good  house 
— not  very  old. 

"Isidore  Muset,  gendarme,  deposes  that  he  was 


ao8        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

called  to  the  house  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  found  some  twenty  or  thirty  persons  at  the 
gateway,  endeavoring  to  gain  admittance.  Forced 
it  open,  at  length,  with  a  bayonet — not  with  a  crow 
bar.  Had  but  little  difficulty  in  getting  it  open,  on 
account  of  its  being  a  double  or  folding  gate,  and 
bolted  neither  at  bottom  nor  top.  The  shrieks  were 
continued  until  the  gate  was  forced — and  then  sud 
denly  ceased.  They  seemed  to  be  screams  of  some 
person  (or  persons)  in  great  agony — were  loud  and 
drawn  out,  not  short  and  quick.  Witness  led  the 
way  upstairs.  Upon  reaching  the  first  landing,  heard 
two  voices  in  loud  and  angry  contention — the  one  a 
gruff  voice,  the  other  much  shriller — a  very  strange 
voice.  Could  distinguish  some  words  of  the  former, 
which  was  that  of  a  Frenchman.  Was  positive  that 
it  was  not  a  woman's  voice.  Could  distinguish  the 
words  'sacre'  and  'diable.'  The  shrill  voice  was  that 
of  a  foreigner.  Could  not  be  sure  whether  it  was 
the  voice  of  a  man  or  of  a  woman.  Could  not 
make  out  what  was  said,  but  believed  the  language  to 
be  Spanish.  The  state  of  the  room  and  of  the 
bodies  was  described  by  this  witness  as  we  described 
them  yesterday. 

"Henri  Duval,  a  neighbor,  and  by  trade  a  silver 
smith,  deposes  that  he  was  one  of  the  party  who  first 
entered  the  house.  Corroborates  the  testimony  of 
Muset  in  general.  As  soon  as  they  forced  an  en 
trance,  they  reclosed  the  door,  to  keep  out  the  crowd, 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     209 

which  collected  very  fast,  notwithstanding  the  late 
ness  of  the  hour.  The  shrill  voice,  this  witness 
thinks,  was  that  of  an  Italian.  Was  certain  it  was 
not  French.  Could  not  be  sure  that  it  was  a  man's 
voice.  It  might  have  been  a  woman's.  Was  not 
acquainted  with  the  Italian  language.  Could  not 
distinguish  the  words,  but  was  convinced  by  the 
intonation  that  the  speaker  was  an  Italian.  Knew 
Madame  L.  and  her  daughter.  Had  conversed  with 
both  frequently.  Was  sure  that  the  shrill  voice 
was  not  that  of  either  of  the  deceased. 

" Odenheimer,  restaurateur. — This  witness 

volunteered  his  testimony.  Not  speaking  French, 
was  examined  through  an  interpreter.  Is  a  native 
of  Amsterdam.  Was  passing  the  house  at  the  time 
of  the  shrieks.  They  lasted  for  several  minutes — 
probably  ten — They  were  long  and  loud — very  aw 
ful  and  distressing.  Was  one  of  those  who  entered 
the  building.  Corroborated  the  previous  evidence 
in  every  respect  but  one.  Was  sure  that  the  shrill 
voice  was  that  of  a  man — of  a  Frenchman.  Could 
not  distinguish  the  words  uttered.  They  were  loud 
^nd  quick — unequal — spoken  apparently  in  fear  as 
Well  as  in  anger.  The  voice  was  harsh — not  so  much 
shrill  as  harsh.  Could  not  call  it  a  shrill  voice.  The 
gruff  voice  said  repeatedly,  'sacre,'  'diable,'  and  once 
'mon  Dieu! 

"Jules  Mignaud,  banker,  of  the  firm  of  Mignaud 
et  Fils,  Rue  Deloraine.  Is  the  elder  Mignaud. 


210        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

Madame  L'Espanaye  had  some  property.  Had 
opened  an  account  with  his  banking  house  in  the 
spring  of  the  year — (eight  years  previously).  Made 
frequent  deposits  in  small  sums.  Had  checked  for 
nothing  until  the  third  day  before  her  death,  when 
she  took  out  in  person  the  sum  of  4,000  francs.  This 
sum  was  paid  in  gold,  and  a  clerk  sent  home  with 
the  money. 

"Adolphe  Le  Bonf  clerk  to  Mignaud  et  Fils,  de 
poses  that  on  the  day  in  question,  about  noon,  he 
accompanied  Madame  L'Espanaye  to  her  residence 
with  the  4,000  francs,  put  up  in  two  bags.  Upon 
the  door  being  opened,  Mademoiselle  L.  appeared 
and  took  from  his  hands  one  of  the  bags,  while  the 
old  lady  relieved  him  of  the  other.  He  then  bowed 
and  departed.  Did  not  see  any  person  in  the  street 
at  the  time.  It  is  a  by-street — very  lonely. 

"William  Bird,  tailor,  deposes  that  he  was  one 
of  the  party  who  entered  the  house.  Is  an  English 
man.  Has  lived  in  Paris  two  years.  Was  one  of 
the  first  to  ascend  the  stairs.  Heard  the  voices  in 
contention.  The  gruff  voice  was  that  of  a  French 
man.  Could  make  out  several  words,  but  cannot 
now  remember  all.  Heard  distinctly  'sacre'  and 
'mon  DieuJ  There  was  a  sound  at  the  moment  as 
if  of  several  persons  struggling — a  scraping  and 
scuffling  sound.  The  shrill  voice  was  very  loud — 
louder  than  the  gruff  one.  Is  sure  that  it  was  not 
the  voice  of  an  Englishman.  Appeared  to  be  that 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     211 

of  a  German.     Might  have  been  a  woman's  voice. 
Does  not  understand  German. 

"Four  of  the  above-named  witnesses  being  re 
called,  deposed  that  the  door  of  the  chamber  in  which 
was  found  the  body  of  Mademoiselle  L.  was  locked 
on  the  inside  when  the  party  reached  it.  Every 
thing  was  perfectly  silent — no  groans  or  noises  of 
any  kind.  Upon  forcing  the  door  no  person  was 
seen.  The  windows,  both  of  the  back  and  front 
room,  were  down  and  firmly  fastened  from  witEin. 
A  door  between  the  two  rooms  was  closed  but  not 
locked.  The  door  leading  from  the  front  room  into 
the  passage  was  locked,  with  the  key  on  the  inside. 
A  small  room  in  the  front  of  the  house,  on  the 
fourth  story,  at  the  head  of  the  passage,  was  open, 
the  door  being  ajar.  This  room  was  crowded  with 
old  beds,  boxes,  and  so  forth.  These  were  care 
fully  removed  and  searched.  There  was  not  an 
inch  of  any  portion  of  the  house  which  was  not 
carefully  searched.  Sweeps  were  sent  up  and  down 
the  chimneys.  The  house  was  a  four-story  one, 
with  garrets  (mansardes).  A  trap-door  on  the 
roof  was  nailed  down  very  securely — did  not  appear 
to  have  been  opened  for  years.  The  time  elapsing 
between  the  hearing  of  the  voices  in  contention  and 
the  breaking  open  of  the  room  door  was  variously 
stated  by  the  witnesses.  Some  made  it  as  short  as 
three  minutes — some  as  long  as  five.  The  door 
was  opened  with  difficulty. 


212         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

(e Alfonso  Gar cof  undertaker,  deposes  that  he  re 
sides  in  the  Rue  Morgue.  Is  a  native  of  Spain. 
Was  one  of  the  party  who  entered  the  house.  Did 
not  proceed  upstairs.  Is  nervous,  and  was  appre 
hensive  of  the  consequences  of  agitation.  Heard 
the  voices  in  contention.  The  gruff  voice  was  that 
of  a  Frenchman.  Could  not  distinguish  what  was 
said.  The  shrill  voice  was  that  of  an  Englishman 
— is  sure  of  this.  Does  not  understand  the  English 
language,  but  judges  by  the  intonation. 

"Alfonso  Gar  do,  undertaker,  deposes  that  he  was 
among  the  first  to  ascend  the  stairs.  Heard  the 
voices  in  question.  The  gruff  voice  was  that  of  a 
Frenchman.  Distinguished  several  words.  The 
speaker  appeared  to  be  expostulating.  Could  not 
make  out  the  words  of  the  shrill  voice.  Spoke  quick 
and  unevenly.  Thinks  it  the  voice  of  a  Russian. 
Corroborates  the  general  testimony.  Is  an  Italian. 
Never  conversed  with  a  native  of  Russia. 

"Several  witnesses,  recalled,  here  testified  that 
the  chimneys  of  all  the  rooms  on  the  fourth  story 
were  too  narrow  to  admit  the  passage  of  a  human 
being.  By  'sweeps/  were  meant  cylindrical  sweep 
ing-brushes,  such  as  are  employed  by  those  who 
clean  chimneys.  These  brushes  were  passed  up  and 
down  every  flue  in  the  house.  There  is  no  back 
passage  by  which  any  one  could  have  descended 
while  the  party  proceeded  upstairs.  The  body  of 
Mademoiselle  L'Espanaye  was  so  firmly  wedged  in 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     213 

the  chimney  that  it  could  not  be  got  down  until  four 
or  five  of  the  party  united  their  strength. 

"Paul  Dumas,  physician,  deposes  that  he  was 
called  to  view  the  bodies  about  daybreak.  They 
were  both  then  lying  on  the  sacking  of  the  bedstead 
in  the  chamber  where  Mademoiselle  L.  was  found. 
The  corpse  of  the  young  lady  was  much  bruised  and 
excoriated.  The  fact  that  it  had  been  thrust  up  the 
chimney  would  sufficiently  account  for  these  appear 
ances.  The  throat  was  greatly  chafed.  There  were 
several  deep  scratches  just  below  the  chin,  together 
with  a  series  of  livid  spots  which  were  evidently  the 
impression  of  ringers.  The  face  was  fearfully  dis 
colored,  and  the  eyeballs  protruded.  The  tongue 
had  been  partially  bitten  through.  A  large  bruise 
was  discovered  upon  the  pit  of  the  stomach,  pro 
duced,  apparently,  by  the  pressure  of  a  knee.  In 
the  opinion  of  M.  Dumas,  Mademoiselle  L'Espanaye 
had  been  throttled  to  death  by  some  person  or  per 
sons  unknown.  The  corpse  of  the  mother  was  hor 
ribly  mutilated.  All  the  bones  of  the  right  leg  and 
arm  were  more  or  less  shattered.  The  left  tibia 
much  splintered,  as  well  as  all  the  ribs  of  the  left 
side.  Whole  body  dreadfully  bruised  and  discol 
ored.  It  was  not  possible  to  say  how  the  injuries 
had  been  inflicted.  A  heavy  club  of  wood,  or  a 
broad  bar  of  iron — a  chair — any  large,  heavy,  and 
obtuse  weapon  would  have  produced  such  results,  if 
wielded  by  the  hands  of  a  very  powerful  man.  No 


214        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

woman  could  have  inflicted  the  blows  with  any 
weapon.  The  head  of  the  deceased,  when  seen  by 
witness,  was  entirely  separated  from  the  body,  and 
was  also  greatly  shattered.  The  throat  had  evi 
dently  been  cut  with  some  very  sharp  instrument — 
probably  with  a  razor. 

"Alexandre  Etienne,  surgeon,  was  called  with  M. 
Dumas  to  view  the  bodies.  Corroborated  the  testi 
mony,  and  the  opinions  of  M.  Dumas. 

"Nothing  further  of  importance  was  elicited,  al 
though  several  other  persons  were  examined.  A 
murder  so  mysterious,  and  so  perplexing  in  all  its 
particulars,  was  never  before  committed  in  Paris — 
if  indeed  a  murder  has  been  committed  at  all.  The 
police  are  entirely  at  fault — an  unusual  occurrence 
in  affairs  of  this  nature.  There  is  not,  however,  the 
shadow  of  a  clew  apparent." 

The  evening  edition  of  the  paper  stated  that  the 
greatest  excitement  still  continued  in  the  Quartier 
St.  Roch — that  the  premises  in  question  had  been 
carefully  researched,  and  fresh  examinations  of  wit 
nesses  instituted,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  A  post 
script,  however,  mentioned  that  Adolphe  Le  Bon 
had  been  arrested  and  imprisoned — although  noth 
ing  appeared  to  criminate  him  beyond  the  facts  al 
ready  detailed. 

Dupin  seemed  singularly  interested  in  the  prog 
ress  of  this  affair — at  least  so  I  judged  from  his 
manner,  for  he  made  no  comments.  It  was  only 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     215 

after  the  announcement  that  Le  Bon  had  been  im 
prisoned,  that  he  asked  me  my  opinion  respecting 
the  murders. 

I  could  merely  agree  with  all  Paris  in  consider 
ing  them  an  insoluble  mystery.  I  saw  no  means  by 
which  it  would  be  possible  to  trace  the  murderer. 

"We  must  not  judge  of  the  means/'  said  Dupin, 
"by  this  shell  of  an  examination.  The  Parisian  po 
lice,  so  much  extolled  for  acumen,  are  cunning,  but 
no  more.  There  is  no  method  in  their  proceedings, 
beyond  the  method  of  the  moment.  They  make  a 
vast  parade  of  measures ;  but,  not  unf requently,  these 
are  so  ill-adapted  to  the  objects  proposed,  as  to  put 
us  in  mind  of  Monsieur  Jourdain's  calling  for  his 
robe-de-chambre — pour  mieux  entendre  la  musique. 
The  results  attained  by  them  are  not  unfrequently 
surprising,  but,  for  the  most  part,  are  brought  about 
by  simple  diligence  and  activity.  When  these  qual 
ities  are  unavailing,  their  schemes  fail.  Vidocq,  for 
example,  was  a  good  guesser,  and  a  persevering  man. 
But,  without  educated  thought,  he  erred  contin 
ually  by  the  very  intensity  at  his  investigations.  He 
impaired  his  vision  by  holding  the  object  too  close. 
He  might  see,  perhaps,  one  or  two  points  with  un 
usual  clearness,  but  in  so  doing  he,  necessarily,  lost 
sight  of  the  matter  as  a  whole.  Thus  there  is  sucK 
a  thing  as  being  too  profound.  Truth  is  not  always 
in  a  well.  In  fact,  as  regards  the  more  important 
knowledge,  I  do  believe  that  she  is  invariably  super- 


2i6        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

facial.  The  depth  lies  in  the  valleys  where  we  seek 
her,  and  not  upon  the  mountain-tops  where  she  is 
found.  The  modes  and  sources  of  this  kind  of  error 
are  well  typified  in  the  contemplation  of  the  heavenly 
bodies.  To  look  at  a  star  by  glances — to  view  it  in 
a  sidelong  way,  by  turning  toward  it  the  exterior 
portions  of  the  retina  (more  susceptible  of  feeble  im 
pressions  of  light  than  the  interior),  is  to  behold  the 
star  distinctly — is  to  have  the  best  appreciation  of 
its  lustre — a  lustre  which  grows  dim  just  in  propor 
tion  as  we  turn  our  vision  fully  upon  it.  A  greater 
number  of  rays  actually  fall  upon  the  eye  in  the  lat 
ter  case,  but  in  the  former,  there  is  the  more  refined 
capacity  for  comprehension.  By  undue  profundity 
we  perplex  and  enfeeble  thought;  and  it  is  possible 
to  make  even  Venus  herself  vanish  from  the  firma 
ment  by  a  scrutiny  too  sustained,  too  concentrated, 
or  too  direct. 

"As  for  these  murders,  let  us  enter  into  some  ex 
aminations  for  ourselves,  before  we  make  up  an  opin 
ion  respecting  them.  An  inquiry  will  afford  us 
amusement"  [I  thought  this  an  odd  term,  so  applied, 
but  said  nothing],  "and  besides,  Le  Bon  once  ren 
dered  me  a  service  for  which  I  am  not  ungrateful. 
We  will  go  and  see  the  premises  with  our  own  eyes. 

I  know  G ,  the  Prefect  of  Police,  and  shall  have 

no  difficulty  in  obtaining  the  necessary  permission." 

The  permission  was  obtained,  and  we  proceeded 
at  once  to  the  Rue  Morgue.  This  is  one  of  those 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     217 

miserable  thoroughfares  which  intervene  between 
the  Rue  Richelieu  and  the  Rue  St.  Roch.  It  was 
late  in  the  afternoon  when  we  reached  it,  as  this 
quarter  is  at  a  great  distance  from  that  in  which 
we  resided.  The  house  was  readily  found;  for 
there  were  still  many  persons  gazing  up  at  the  closed 
shutters,  with  an  objectless  curiosity,  from  the  op 
posite  side  of  the  way.  It  was  an  ordinary  Parisian 
house,  with  a  gateway,  on  one  side  of  which  was  a 
glazed  watch-box,  with  a  sliding  panel  in  the  win 
dow,  indicating  a  loge  de  concierge.  Before  going 
in  we  walked  up  the  street,  turned  down  an  alley, 
and  then,  again  turning,  passed  in  the  rear  of  the 
building — Dupin,  meanwhile,  examining  the  whole 
neighborhood,  as  well  as  the  house,  with  a  minute 
ness  of  attention  for  which  I  could  see  no  possible 
object. 

Retracing  our  steps  we  came  again  to  the  front  of 
the  dwelling,  rang,  and,  having  shown  our  creden 
tials,  were  admitted  by  the  agents  in  charge.  We 
went  upstairs — into  the  chamber  where  the  body  of 
Mademoiselle  L'Espanaye  had  been  found,  and 
where  both  the  deceased  still  lay.  The  disorders  of 
the  room  had,  as  usual,  been  suffered  to  exist.  I 
saw  nothing  beyond  what  had  been  stated  in  the 
"Gazette  des  Tribunaux."  Dupin  scrutinized  every 
thing — not  excepting  the  bodies  of  the  victims.  We 
then  went  into  the  other  rooms,  and  into  the  yard; 
a  gendarme  accompanying  us  throughout.  The  ex- 

I-Poe-10 


2i8         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

amination  occupied  us  until  dark,  when  we  took  our 
departure.  On  our  way  home  my  companion 
stepped  in  for  a  moment  at  the  office  of  one  of  the 
daily  papers. 

I  have  said  that  the  whims  of  my  friend  were 
manifold,  and  that  Je  les  menagais : — for  this  phrase 
there  is  no  English  equivalent.  It  was  his  humor, 
now,  to  decline  all  conversation  on  the  subject  of  the 
murder,  until  about  noon  the  next  day.  He  then 
asked  me,  suddenly,  if  I  had  observed  anything  pe 
culiar  at  the  scene  of  the  atrocity. 

There  was  something  in  his  manner  of  empha 
sizing  the  word  "peculiar,"  which  caused  me  to 
shudder,  without  knowing  why. 

"No,  nothing  peculiar,"  I  said ;  "nothing  more,  at 
least,  than  we  both  saw  stated  in  the  paper. 

"The  'Gazette/  "  he  replied,  "has  not  entered,  I 
fear,  into  the  unusual  horror  of  the  thing.  But  dis 
miss  the  idle  opinions  of  this  print.  It  appears  to 
me  that  this  mystery  is  considered  insoluble,  for  the 
very  reason  which  should  cause  it  to  be  regarded  as 
easy  of  solution — I  mean  for  the  outre  character  of 
its  features.  The  police  are  confounded  by  the 
seeming  absence  of  motive — not  for  the  murder  it 
self — but  for  the  atrocity  of  the  murder.  They  are 
puzzled,  too,  by  the  seeming  impossibility  of  recon 
ciling  the  voices  heard  in  contention,  with  the  facts 
that  no  one  was  discovered  upstairs  but  the  assassi 
nated  Mademoiselle  L'Espanaye,  and  that  there  were 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     219 

no  means  of  egress  without  the  notice  of  the  party 
ascending.  The  wild  disorder  of  the  room;  the 
corpse  thrust,  with  the  head  downward,  up  the  chim 
ney;  the  frightful  mutilation  of  the  body  of  the  old 
lady;  these  considerations,  with  those  just  men 
tioned,  and  others  which  I  need  not  mention,  have 
sufficed  to  paralyze  the  powers,  by  putting  com 
pletely  at  fault  the  boasted  acumen,  of  the  govern 
ment  agents.  They  have  fallen  into  the  gross  but 
common  error  of  confounding  the  unusual  with  the 
abstruse.  But  it  is  by  these  deviations  from  the 
plane  of  the  ordinary,  that  reason  feels  its  way,  if 
at  all,  in  its  search  for  the  true.  In  investigations 
such  as  we  are  now  pursuing,  it  should  not  be  so 
much  asked  'what  has  occurred/  as  'what  has  oc 
curred  that  has  never  occurred  before/  In  fact,  the 
facility  with  which  I  shall  arrive,  or  have  arrived, 
at  the  solution  of  this  mystery,  is  in  the  direct  ratio 
of  its  apparent  insolubility  in  the  eyes  of  the  police." 

I  stared  at  the  speaker  in  mute  astonishment. 

"I  am  now  awaiting,"  continued  he,  looking  to 
ward  the  door  of  our  apartment — "I  am  now  await 
ing  a  person  who,  although  perhaps  not  the  perpe 
trator  of  these  butcheries,  must  have  been  in  some 
measure  implicated  in  their  perpetration.  Of  the 
worst  portion  of  the  crimes  committed,  it  is  prob 
able  that  he  is  innocent.  I  hope  that  I  am  right  in 
this  supposition;  for  upon  it  I  build  my  expectation 
of  reading  the  entire  riddle.  I  look  for  the  man 


22O         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

here — in  this  room — every  moment.  It  is  true  that 
he  may  not  arrive ;  but  the  probability  is  that  he  will. 
Should  he  come,  it  will  be  necessary  to  detain  him. 
Here  are  pistols ;  and  we  both  know  how  to  use  them 
when  occasion  demands  their  use." 

I  took  the  pistols,  scarcely  knowing  what  I  did, 
or  believing  what  I  heard,  while  Dupin  went  on, 
very  much  as  if  in  a  soliloquy.  I  have  already 
spoken  of  his  abstract  manner  at  such  times.  His 
discourse  was  addressed  to  myself;  but  his  voice, 
although  by  no  means  loud,  had  that  intonation 
which  is  commonly  employed  in  speaking  to  some 
one  at  a  great  distance.  His  eyes,  vacant  in  ex 
pression,  regarded  only  the  wall. 

"That  the  voices  heard  in  contention,"  he  said, 
"by  the  party  upon  the  stairs,  were  not  the  voices  of 
the  women  themselves,  was  fully  proved  by  the  evi 
dence.  This  relieves  us  of  all  doubt  upon  the  ques 
tion  whether  the  old  lady  could  have  first  destroyed 
the  daughter,  and  afterward  have  committed  suicide. 
I  speak  of  this  point  chiefly  for  the  sake  of  method ; 
for  the  strength  of  Madame  L'Espanaye  would  have 
been  utterly  unequal  to  the  task  of  thrusting  her 
daughter's  corpse  up  the  chimney  as  it  was  found; 
and  the  nature  of  the  wounds  upon  her  own  person 
entirely  precludes  the  idea  of  self-destruction.  Mur 
der,  then,  has  been  committed  by  some  third  party; 
and  the  voices  of  this  third  party  were  those  heard  in 
contention.  Let  me  now  advert — not  to  the  whole 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     221 

testimony  respecting  these  voices — but  to  what  was 
peculiar  in  that  testimony.  Did  you  observe  any 
thing  peculiar  about  it?" 

I  remarked  that,  while  all  the  witnesses  agreed 
in  supposing  the  gruff  voice  to  be  that  of  a  French 
man,  there  was  much  disagreement  in  regard  to  the 
shrill,  or,  as  one  individual  termed  it,  the  harsh 
voice. 

"That  was  the  evidence  itself,"  said  Dupin,  "but 
it  was  not  the  peculiarity  of  the  evidence.  You  have 
observed  nothing  distinctive.  Yet  there  was  some 
thing  to  be  observed.  The  witnesses,  as  you  re 
mark,  agreed  about  the  gruff  voice;  they  were  here 
unanimous.  But  in  regard  to  the  shrill  voice,  the 
peculiarity  is — not  that  they  disagreed — but  that, 
while  an  Italian,  an  Englishman,  a  Spaniard,  a  Hol 
lander,  and  a  Frenchman  attempted  to  describe  it, 
each  one  spoke  of  it  as  that  of  a  foreigner.  Each  is 
sure  that  it  was  not  the  voice  of  one  of  his  own 
countrymen.  Each  likens  it — not  to  the  voice  of  an 
individual  of  any  nation  with  whose  language  he 
is  conversant — but  the  converse.  The  Frenchman 
supposes  it  the  voice  of  a  Spaniard,  and  'might  have 
distinguished  some  words  had  he  been  acquainted 
with  the  Spanish/  The  Dutchman  maintains  it 
to  have  been  that  of  a  Frenchman;  but  we  find  it 
stated  that  'not  understanding  French  this  witness 
was  examined  through  an  interpreter.'  The  En 
glishman  thinks  it  the  voice  of  a  German,  and  'does 


222         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

not  understand  German/  The  Spaniard  'is  sure* 
that  it  was  that  of  an  Englishman,  but  'judges  by 
the  intonation'  altogether,  'as  he  has  no  knowledge 
of  the  English/  The  Italian  believes  it  the  voice  of 
a  Russian,  but  'has  never  conversed  with  a  native 
of  Russia/  A  second  Frenchman  differs,  moreover, 
with  the  first,  and  is  positive  that  the  voice  was  that 
of  an  Italian;  but,  not  being  cognizant  of  that 
tongue,  is,  like  the  Spaniard,  'convinced  by  the  in 
tonation/  Now,  how  strangely  unusual  must  that 
voice  have  really  been,  about  which  such  testimony 
as  this  could  have  been  elicited! — in  whose  tones, 
even,  denizens  of  the  five  great  divisions  of  Europe 
could  recognize  nothing  familiar!  You  will  say 
that  it  might  have  been  the  voice  of  an  Asiatic — of 
an  African.  Neither  Asiatics  nor  Africans  abound 
in  Paris;  but,  without  denying  the  inference,  I  will 
now  merely  call  your  attention  to  three  points.  The 
voice  is  termed  by  one  witness  'harsh  rather  than 
shrill/  It  is  represented  by  two  others  to  have  been 
'quick  and  unequal/  No  words— no  sounds  re 
sembling  words — were  by  any  witness  mentioned  as 
distinguishable. 

"I  know  not,"  continued  Dupin,  "what  impression 
I  may  have  made,  so  far,  upon  your  own  under 
standing;  but  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  legitimate 
deductions  even  from  this  portion  of  the  testimony 
— the  portion  respecting  the  gruff  and  shrill  voices 
— are  in  themselves  sufficient  to  engender  a  suspi- 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     223 

cion  which  should  give  direction  to  all  further  prog 
ress  in  the  investigation  of  the  mystery.  I  said 
'legitimate  deductions' ;  but  my  meaning  is  not  thus 
fully  expressed.  I  designed  to  imply  that  the  de 
ductions  are  the  sole  proper  ones,  and  that  the  sus 
picion  arises  inevitably  from  them  as  the  single  re 
sult.  What  the  suspicion  is,  however,  I  will  not  say 
just  yet.  I  merely  wish  you  to  bear  in  mind  that, 
with  myself,  it  was  sufficiently  forcible  to  give  a 
definite  form — a  certain  tendency — to  my  inquiries 
in  the  chamber. 

"Let  us  now  transport  ourselves,  in  fancy,  to  this 
chamber.  What  shall  we  first  seek  here?  The 
means  of  egress  employed  by  the  murderers.  It  is 
not  too  much  to  say  that  neither  of  us  believes  in 
preternatural  events.  Madame  and  Mademoiselle 
L/Espanaye  were  not  destroyed  by  spirits.  The 
doers  of  the  deed  were  material  and  escaped  mate 
rially.  Then  how?  Fortunately  there  is  but  one 
mode  of  reasoning  upon  the  point,  and  that  mode 
must  lead  us  to  a  definite  decision.  Let  us  ex 
amine,  each  by  each,  the  possible  means  of  egress. 
It  is  clear  that  the  assassins  were  in  the  room  where 
Mademoiselle  L'Espanaye  was  found,  or  at  least  in 
the  room  adjoining,  when  the  party  ascended  the 
stairs.  It  is  then,  only  from  these  two  apartments 
that  we  have  to  seek  issues.  The  police  have  laid 
bare  the  floors,  the  ceiling,  and  the  masonry  of  the 
walls,  in  every  direction.  No  secret  issues  could 


224        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

have  escaped  their  vigilance.  But,  not  trusting  to 
their  eyes,  I  examined  with  my  own.  There  were, 
then,  no  secret  issues.  Both  doors  leading  from  the 
rooms  into  the  passage  were  securely  locked,  with 
the  keys  inside.  Let  us  turn  to  the  chimneys. 
These,  although  of  ordinary  width  for  some  eight  or 
ten  feet  above  the  hearths,  will  not  admit,  through 
out  their  extent,  the  body  of  a  large  cat.  The  im 
possibility  of  egress,  by  means  already  stated,  being 
thus  absolute,  we  are  reduced  to  the  windows. 
Through  those  of  the  front  room  no  one  could  have 
escaped  without  notice  from  the  crowd  in  the  street. 
The  murderers  must  have  passed,  then,  through 
those  of  the  back  room.  Now,  brought  to  this  con 
clusion  in  so  unequivocal  a  manner  as  we  are,  it  is 
not  our  part,  as  reasoners,  to  reject  it  on  account 
of  apparent  impossibilities.  It  is  only  left  for  us  to 
prove  that  these  apparent  'impossibilities'  are,  in 
reality,  not  such. 

"There  are  two  windows  in  the  chamber.  One 
of  them  is  unobstructed  by  furniture,  and  is  wholly 
visible.  The  lower  portion  of  the  other  is  hidden 
from  view  by  the  head  of  the  unwieldy  bedstead 
which  is  thrust  close  up  against  it.  The  former  was 
found  securely  fastened  from  within.  It  resisted 
the  utmost  force  of  those  who  endeavored  to  raise 
it.  A  large  gimlet-hole  had  been  pierced  in  its 
frame  to  the  left,  and  a  very  stout  nail  was  found 
fitted  therein,  nearly  to  the  head.  Upon  examin- 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     225 

ing  the  other  window,  a  similar  nail  was  seen  simi 
larly  fitted  in  it ;  and  a  vigorous  attempt  to  raise  this 
sash  failed  also.  The  police  were  now  entirely 
satisfied  that  egress  had  not  been  in  these  directions. 
And,  therefore,  it  was  thought  a  matter  of  supere 
rogation  to  withdraw  the  nails  and  open  the  win 
dows. 

"My  own  examination  was  somewhat  more  par 
ticular,  and  was  so  for  the  reason  I  have  just  given 
— because  here  it  was,  I  knew,  that  all  apparent 
impossibilities  must  be  proved  to  be  not  such  in 
reality. 

"I  proceeded  to  think  thus — a  posteriori.  The 
murderers  did  escape  from  one  of  these  windows. 
This  being  so,  they  could  not  have  refastened  the 
sashes  from  the  inside,  as  they  were  found  fastened ; 
— the  consideration  which  put  a  stop,  through  its 
obviousness,  to  the  scrutiny  of  the  police  in  this 
quarter.  Yet  the  sashes  were  fastened.  They  must, 
then,  have  the  power  of  fastening  themselves.  There 
was  no  escape  from  this  conclusion.  I  stepped  to 
the  unobstructed  casement,  withdrew  the  nail  with 
some  difficulty,  and  attempted  to  raise  the  sash. 
It  resisted  all  my  efforts,  as  I  had  anticipated.  A 
concealed  spring  must,  I  now  knew,  exist;  and  this 
corroboration  of  my  idea  convinced  me  that  my 
premises,  at  least,  were  correct,  however  mysterious 
still  appeared  the  circumstances  attending  the  nails. 
A  careful  search  soon  brought  to  light  the  hidden 


226        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Foe 

spring.  I  pressed  it,  and,  satisfied  with  the  discov 
ery,  forbore  to  upraise  the  sash. 

"I  now  replaced  the  nail  and  regarded  it  atten 
tively.  A  person  passing  out  through  this  window 
might  have  reclosed  it,  and  the  spring  would  have 
caught — but  the  nail  could  not  have  been  replaced. 
The  conclusion  was  plain,  and  again  narrowed  in  the 
field  of  my  investigations.  The  assassins  must  have 
escaped  through  the  other  window.  Supposing, 
then,  the  springs  upon  each  sash  to  be  the  same,  as 
was  probable,  there  must  be  found  a  difference  be 
tween  the  nails,  or  at  least  between  the  modes  of 
their  fixture.  Getting  upon  the  sacking  of  the  bed 
stead,  I  looked  over  the  head-board  minutely  at  the 
second  casement.  Passing  my  hand  down  behind 
the  board,  I  readily  discovered  and  pressed  the 
spring,  which  was,  as  I  had  supposed,  indentical 
in  character  with  its  neighbor.  I  now  looked  at 
the  nail.  It  was  as  stout  as  the  other,  and  appar 
ently  fitted  in  the  same  manner — driven  in  nearly 
up  to  the  head. 

"You  will  say  that  I  was  puzzled;  but,  if  you 
think  so,  you  must  have  misunderstood  the  nature 
of  the  inductions.  To  use  a  sporting  phrase,  I  had 
not  been  once  'at  fault.'  The  scent  had  never  for 
an  instant  been  lost.  There  was  no  flaw  in  any 
link  of  the  chain.  I  had  traced  the  secret  to  its 
ultimate  result — and  that  result  was  the  nail.  It 
had,  I  say,  in  every  respect,  the  appearance  of  its 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     227 

fellow  in  the  other  window;  but  this  fact  was  an 
absolute  nullity  (conclusive  as  it  might  seem  to  be) 
when  compared  with  the  consideration  that  here,  at 
this  point,  terminated  the  clew.  There  must  be  some 
thing  wrong/  I  said,  'about  the  nail/  I  touched  it; 
and  the  head,  with  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch  of  the 
shank,  came  off  in  my  fingers.  The  rest  of  the 
shank  was  in  the  gimlet-hole,  where  it  had  been 
broken  off.  The  fracture  was  an  old  one  (for  its 
edges  were  incrusted  with  rust),  and  had  appar 
ently  been  accomplished  by  the  blow  of  a  hammer, 
which  had  partially  imbedded,  in  the  top  of  the  bot 
tom  sash,  the  head  portion  of  the  nail.  I  now  care 
fully  replaced  this  head  portion  in  the  indentation 
whence  I  had  taken  it,  and  the  resemblance  to  a 
perfect  nail  was  complete — the  fissure  was  invisible. 
Pressing  the  spring,  I  gently  raised  the  sash  for  a 
few  inches ;  the  head  went  up  with  it,  remaining  firm 
in  its  bed.  I  closed  the  window,  and  the  semblance 
of  the  whole  nail  was  again  perfect. 

"This  riddle,  so  far,  was  now  unriddled.  The 
assassin  had  escaped  through  the  window  which 
looked  upon  the  bed.  Dropping  of  its  own  accord 
upon  his  exit  (or  perhaps  purposely  closed),  it  had 
become  fastened  by  the  spring;  and  it  was  the  re 
tention  of  this  spring  which  had  been  mistaken  by 
the  police  for  that  of  the  nail — further  inquiry  being 
thus  considered  unnecessary. 

"The  next  question  is  that  of  the  mode  of  de- 


228         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

scent.  Upon  this  point  I  had  been  satisfied  in  my 
walk  with  you  around  the  building.  About  five 
feet  and  a  half  from  the  casement  in  question  there 
runs  a  lightning-rod.  From  this  rod  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  any  one  to  reach  the  window 
itself,  to  say  nothing  of  entering  it.  I  observed, 
however,  that  the  shutters  of  the  fourth  story  were 
of  the  peculiar  kind  called  by  Parisian  carpenters 
ferrades — a  kind  rarely  employed  at  the  present 
day,  but  frequently  seen  upon  very  old  mansions  at 
Lyons  and  Bordeaux.  They  are  in  the  form  of  an 
ordinary  door  (a  single,  not  a  folding  door),  ex 
cept  that  the  lower  half  is  latticed  or  worked  in  open 
trellis — thus  affording  an  excellent  hold  for  the 
hands.  In  the  present  instance  these  shutters  are 
fully  three  feet  and  a  half  broad.  When  we  saw 
them  from  the  rear  of  the  house,  they  were  both 
about  half  open — that  is  to  say,  they  stood  off  at 
right  angles  from  the  wall.  It  is  probable  that  the 
police,  as  well  as*  myself,  examined  the  back  of  the 
tenement ;  but,  if  so,  in  looking  at  these  ferrades  in 
the  line  of  their  breadth  (as  they  must  have  done), 
they  did  not  perceive  this  great  breadth  itself,  or, 
at  all  events,  failed  to  take  it  into  due  considera 
tion.  In  fact,  having  once  satisfied  themselves  that 
no  egress  could  have  been  made  in  this  quarter,  they 
would  naturally  bestow  here  a  very  cursory  exam 
ination.  It  was  clear  to  me,  however,  that  the  shut 
ter  belonging  to  the  window  at  the  head  of  the  bed, 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     229 

would,  if  swung  fully  back  to  the  wall,  reach  to 
within  two  feet  of  the  lightning-rod.  It  was  also 
evident  that,  by  exertion  of  a  very  unusual  degree  of 
activity  and  courage,  an  entrance  into  the  window, 
from  the  rod,  might  have  been  thus  effected.  By 
reaching  to  the  distance  of  two  feet  and  a  half  (we 
now  suppose  the  shutter  open  to  its  whole  extent)  a 
robber  might  have  taken  a  firm  grasp  upon  the 
trellis-work.  Letting  go,  then,  his  hold  upon  the 
rod,  placing  his  feet  securely  against  the  wall,  and 
springing  boldly  from  it,  he  might  have  swung  the 
shutter  so  as  to  close  it,  and,  if  we  imagine  the  win 
dow  open  at  the  time,  might  even  have  swung  him 
self  into  the  room. 

"I  wish  you  to  bear  especially  in  mind  that  I  have 
spoken  of  a  very  unusual  degree  of  activity  as  re 
quisite  to  success  in  so  hazardous  and  so  difficult  a 
feat.  It  is  my  design  to  show  you  first,  that  the 
thing  might  possibly  have  been  accomplished : — but, 
secondly  and  chiefly,  I  wish  to  impress  upon  your 
understanding  the  very  extraordinary — the  almost 
preternatural  character  of  that  agility  which  could 
have  accomplished  it. 

"You  will  say,  no  doubt,  using  the  language  of 
the  law,  that  'to  make  out  my  case/  I  should  rather 
undervalue,  than  insist  upon  a  full  estimation  of  the 
activity  required  in  this  matter.  This  may  be  the 
practice  in  law,  but  it  is  not  the  usage  of  reason. 
My  ultimate  object  is  only  the  truth.  My  immedi- 


230        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

ate  purpose  is  to  lead  you  to  place  in  juxtaposi 
tion,  that  very  unusual  activity  of  which  I  have 
just  spoken,  with  that  very  peculiar  shrill  (or 
harsh)  and  unequal  voice,  about  whose  nationality 
no  two  persons  could  be  found  to  agree,  and  in 
whose  utterance  no  syllabification  could  be  de 
tected." 

At  these  words  a  vague  and  half-formed  concep 
tion  of  the  meaning  of  Dupin  flitted  over  my  mind. 
I  seemed  to  be  upon  the  verge  of  comprehension, 
without  power  to  comprehend — as  men,  at  times, 
find  themselves  upon  the  brink  of  remembrance, 
without  being  able,  in  the  end,  to  remember.  My 
friend  went  on  with  his  discourse. 

"You  will  see,"  he  said,  "that  I  have  shifted  the 
question  from  the  mode  of  egress  to  that  of  ingress. 
It  was  my  design  to  convey  the  idea  that  both  were 
effected  in  the  same  manner,  at  the  same  point.  Let 
us  now  revert  to  the  interior  of  the  room.  Let  us 
survey  the  appearances  here.  The  drawers  of  the 
bureau,  it  is  said,  had  been  rifled,  although  many 
articles  of  apparel  still  remained  within  them.  The 
conclusion  here  is  absurd.  It  is  a  mere  guess — a 
very  silly  one — and  no  more.  How  are  we  to  know 
that  the  articles  found  in  the  drawers  were  not  all 
these  drawers  had  originally  contained?  Madame 
L'Espanaye  and  her  daughter  lived  an  exceedingly 
retired  life — saw  no  company — seldom  went  out — 
had  little  use  for  numerous  changes  of  habiliment. 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  JMorgue     231 

Those  found  were  at  least  of  as  good  quality  as  any 
likely  to  be  possessed  by  these  ladies.  If  a  thief  had 
taken  any,  why  did  he  not  take  the  best — why  did  he 
not  take  all  ?  In  a  word,  why  did  he  abandon  four 
thousand  francs  in  gold  to  encumber  himself  with 
a  bundle  of  linen?  The  gold  was  abandoned. 
Nearly  the  whole  sum  mentioned  by  Monsieur  Mig- 
naud,  the  banker,  was  discovered,  in  bags,  upon  the 
floor.  I  wish  you,  therefore,  to  discard  from  your 
thoughts  the  blundering  idea  of  motive,  engendered 
in  the  brains  of  the  police  by  that  portion  of  the  evi 
dence  which  speaks  of  money  delivered  at  the  door 
of  the  house.  Coincidences  ten  times  as  remarkable 
as  this  (the  delivery  of  the  money,  and  murder  com 
mitted  within  three  days  upon  the  party  receiving 
it),  happen  to  all  of  us  every  hour  of  our  lives,  with 
out  attracting  even  momentary  notice.  Coinci 
dences,  in  general,  are  great  stumbling-blocks  in  the 
way  of  that  class  of  thinkers  who  have  been  edu 
cated  to  know  nothing  of  the  theory  of  probabilities 
— that  theory  to  which  the  most  glorious  objects  of 
human  research  are  indebted  for  the  most  glorious 
of  illustration.  In  the  present  instance,  had  the 
gold  been  gone,  the  fact  of  its  delivery  three  days 
before  would  have  formed  something  more  than  a 
coincidence.  It  would  have  been  corroborative  of 
this  idea  of  motive.  But,  under  the  real  circum 
stances  of  the  case,  if  we  are  to  suppose  gold  the 
motive  of  this  outrage,  we  must  also  imagine  the 


232         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

perpetrator  so  vacillating  an  idiot  as  to  have  aban 
doned  his  gold  and  his  motive  together. 

"Keeping  now  steadily  in  mind  the  points  to 
which  I  have. drawn  your  attention — that  peculiar 
voice,  that  unusual  agility,  and  that  startling  ab 
sence  of  motive  in  a  murder  so  singularly  atrocious 
as  this — let  us  glance  at  the  butchery  itself.  Here 
is  a  woman  strangled  to  death  by  manual  strength, 
and  thrust  up  a  chimney  head  downward.  Ordinary 
assassins  employ  no  such  mode  of  murder  as  this. 
Least  of  all,  do  they  thus  dispose  of  the  murdered. 
In  the  manner  of  thrusting  the  corpse  up  the  chim 
ney,  you  will  admit  that  there  was  something  ex 
cessively  outre — something  altogether  irreconcilable 
with  our  common  notions  of  human  action,  even 
when  we  suppose  the  actors  the  most  depraved  of 
men.  Think,  too,  how  great  must  have  been  that 
strength  which  could  have  thrust  the  body  up  such 
an  aperture  so  forcibly  that  the  united  vigor  of  sev 
eral  persons  was  found  barely  sufficient  to  drag  it 
down! 

"Turn,  now,  to  other  indications  of  the  employ 
ment  of  a  vigor  most  marvellous.  On  the  hearth 
were  thick  tresses — very  thick  tresses — of  gray  hu 
man  hair.  These  had  been  torn  out  by  the  roots. 
You  are  aware  of  the  great  force  necessary  in  tear 
ing  thus  from  the  head  even  twenty  or  thirty  hairs 
together.  You  saw  the  locks  in  question  as  well  as 
myself.  Their  roots  (a  hideous  sight!)  were  clotted 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     233 

with  fragments  of  the  flesh  of  the  scalp — sure  token 
of  the  prodigious  power  which  had  been  exerted  in 
uprooting  perhaps  half  a  million  of  hairs  at  a  time. 
The  throat  of  the  old  lady  was  not  merely  cut,  but 
the  head  absolutely  severed  from  the  body:  the  in 
strument  was  a  mere  razor.  I  wish  you  also  to  look 
at  the  brutal  ferocity  of  these  deeds.  Of  the  bruises 
upon  the  body  of  Madame  L'Espanaye  I  do  not 
speak.  Monsieur  Dumas,  and  his  worthy  coadju 
tor  Monsieur  Etienne,  have  pronounced  that  they 
were  inflicted  by  some  obtuse  instrument;  and  so 
far  these  gentlemen  are  very  correct.  The  obtuse 
instrument  was  clearly  the  stone  pavement  in  the 
yard,  upon  which  the  victim  had  fallen  from  the 
window  which  looked  in  upon  the  bed.  This  idea, 
however  simple  it  may  now  seem,  escaped  the  police 
for  the  same  reason  that  the  breadth  of  the  shutters 
escaped  them — because,  by  the  affair  of  the  nails, 
their  perceptions  had  been  hermetically  sealed 
against  the  possibility  of  the  windows  having  ever 
been  opened  at  all. 

"If  now,  in  addition  to  all  these  things,  you  have 
properly  reflected  upon  the  odd  disorder  of  the  cham 
ber,  we  have  gone  so  far  as  to  combine  the  ideas  of 
an  agility  astounding,  a  strength  superhuman,  a  fe 
rocity  brutal,  a  butchery  without  motive,  a  gro- 
tesquerie  in  horror  absolutely  alien  from  humanity, 
and  a  voice  foreign  in  tone  to  the  ears  of  men  of 
many  nations,  and  devoid  of  all  distinct  or  intelli- 


234        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

gible  syllabification.  What  result,  then,  has  en 
sued?  What  impression  have  I  made  upon  your 
fancy?" 

I  felt  a  creeping  of  the  flesh  as  Dupin  asked  me 
the  question.  "A  madman,"  I  said,  "has  done  this 
deed — some  raving  maniac,  escaped  from  a  neigh 
boring  Maison  de  Sante." 

"In  some  respects,"  he  replied,  "your  idea  is  not 
irrelevant.  But  the  voices  of  madmen,  even  in 
their  wildest  paroxysms,  are  never  found  to  tally 
with  that  peculiar  voice  heard  upon  the  stairs.  Mad 
men  are  of  some  nation,  and  their  language,  how 
ever  incoherent  in  its  words,  has  always  the  coher 
ence  of  syllabification.  Besides,  the  hair  of  a  mad 
man  is  not  such  as  I  now  hold  in  my  hand.  I  dis 
entangled  this  little  tuft  from  the  rigidly  clutched 
fingers  of  Madame  L'Espanaye.  Tell  me  what  you 
can  make  of  it." 

"Dupin !"  I  said,  completely  unnerved ;  "this  hair 
is  most  unusual — this  is  no  human  hair." 

"I  have  not  asserted  that  it  is,"  said  he;  "but,  be 
fore  we  decide  this  point,  I  wish  you  to  glance  at 
the  little  sketch  I  have  here  traced  upon  this  paper. 
It  is  a  fac-simile  drawing  of  what  has  been  de 
scribed  in  one  portion  of  the  testimony  as  'dark 
bruises  and  deep  indentations  of  finger  nails'  upon 
the  throat  of  Mademoiselle  L'Espanaye,  and  in  an 
other  (by  Messrs.  Dumas  and  Etienne)  as  a  'series 
of  livid  spots,  evidently  the  impression  of  fingers.' 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     235 

"You  will  perceive,"  continued  my  friend,  spread 
ing  out  the  paper  upon  the  table  before  us,  "that  this 
drawing  gives  the  idea  of  a  firm  and  fixed  hold. 
There  is  no  slipping  apparent.  Each  finger  has  re 
tained — possibly  until  the  death  of  the  victim — the 
fearful  grasp  by  which  it  originally  imbedded  itself. 
Attempt,  now,  to  place  all  your  fingers,  at  the  same 
time,  in  the  respective  impressions  as  you  see  them." 

I  made  the  attempt  in  vain. 

"We  are  possibly  not  giving  this  matter  a  fair 
trial,"  he  said.  "The  paper  is  spread  out  upon  a 
plane  surface;  but  the  human  throat  is  cylindrical. 
Here  is  a  billet  of  wood,  the  circumference  of  which 
is  about  that  of  the  throat.  Wrap  the  drawing 
around  it,  and  try  the  experiment  again." 

I  did  so ;  but  the  difficulty  was  even  more  obvious 
than  before.  "This,"  I  said,  "is  the  mark  of  no 
human  hand." 

"Read  now,"  replied  Dupin,  "this  passage  from 
Cuvier." 

It  was  a  minute  anatomical  and  generally  de 
scriptive  account  of  the  large  fulvious  Orang-Ou- 
tang  of  the  East  Indian  Islands.  The  gigantic 
stature,  the  prodigious  strength  and  activity,  the 
wild  ferocity,  and  the  imitative  propensities  of  these 
mammalia  are  sufficiently  well  known  to  all.  I  un 
derstood  the  full  horrors  of  the  murder  at  once. 

"The  description  of  the  digits,"  said  I,  as  I  made 
an  end  of  the  reading,  "is  in  exact  accordance  with 


236         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

his  drawing.  I  see  that  no  animal  but  an  Orang- 
Outang,  of  the  species  here  mentioned,  could  have 
impressed  the  indentations  as  you  have  traced  them. 
This  tuft  of  tawny  hair,  too,  is  identical  in  char 
acter  with  that  of  the  beast  of  Cuvier.  But  I  can 
not  possibly  comprehend  the  particulars  of  this 
frightful  mystery.  Besides,  there  were  two  voices 
heard  in  contention,  and  one  of  them  was  unques 
tionably  the  voice  of  a  Frenchman." 

"True;  and  you  will  remember  an  expression  at 
tributed  almost  unanimously,  by  the  evidence,  to  this 
voice — the  expression,  'mon  Dieu !'  This,  under  the 
circumstances,  has  been  justly  characterized  by  one 
of  the  witnesses  (Montani,  the  confectioner)  as  an 
expression  of  remonstrance  or  expostulation.  Upon 
these  two  words,  therefore,  I  have  mainly  built  my 
hopes  of  a  full  solution  of  the  riddle.  A  Frenchman 
was  cognizant  of  the  murder.  It  is  possible — in 
deed  it  is  far  more  than  probable — that  he  was  in 
nocent  of  all  participation  in  the  bloody  transac 
tions  which  took  place.  The  Orang-Outang  may 
have  escaped  from  him.  He  may  have  traced  it  to 
the  chamber ;  but,  under  the  agitating  circumstances 
which  ensued,  he  could  never  have  recaptured  it. 
It  is  still  at  large.  I  will  not  pursue  these  guesses 
— for  I  have  no  right  to  call  them  more — since  the 
shades  of  reflection  upon  which  they  are  based  are 
scarcely  of  sufficient  depth  to  be  appreciable  by  my 
own  intellect,  and  since  I  could  not  pretend  to  make 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     237 

them  intelligible  to  the  understanding  of  another. 
We  will  call  them  guesses,  then,  and  speak  of  them 
as  such.  If  the  Frenchman  in  question  is  indeed, 
as  I  suppose,  innocent  of  this  atrocity,  this  adver 
tisement,  which  I  left  last  night,  upon  our  return 
home,  at  the  office  of  'Le  Monde'  (a  paper  devoted 
to  the  shipping  interest,  and  much  sought  by  sail 
ors),  will  bring  him  to  our  residence." 
He  handed  me  a  paper,  and  I  read  thus : 

CAUGHT — In  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  early  in  the 
morning  of  the inst.  (the  morning  of  the  mur 
der),  a  very  large,  tawny  Orang-Outang  of  the  Bor- 
nese  species.  The  owner  (who  is  ascertained  to  be  a 
sailor,  belonging  to  a  Maltese  vessel)  may  have  the 
animal  again,  upon  identifying  it  satisfactorily,  and 
paying  a  few  charges  arising  from  its  capture  and 

keeping.    Call  at  No. Rue ,  Faubourg  St. 

Germain — au  troisieme" 

"How  was  it  possible,"  I  asked,  "that  you  should 
know  the  man  to  be  a  sailor,  and  belonging  to  a 
Maltese  vessel?" 

"I  do  not  know  it,"  said  Dupin.  "I  am  not 
sure  of  it.  Here,  however,  is  a  small  piece  of  rib 
bon,  which  from  its  form,  and  from  its  greasy  ap 
pearance,  has  evidently  been  used  in  tying  the  hair 
in  one  of  those  long  queues  of  which  sailors  are  so 
fond.  Moreover,  this  knot  is  one  which  few  be 
sides  sailors  can  tie,  and  it  is  peculiar  to  the  Mai- 


238         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

tese.  I  picked  the  ribbon  up  at  the  foot  of  the 
lightning-rod.  It  could  not  have  belonged  to  either 
of  the  deceased.  Now  if,  after  all,  I  am  wrong  in 
my  induction  from  this  ribbon,  that  the  Frenchman 
was  a  sailor  belonging  to  a  Maltese  vessel,  still  I  can 
have  done  no  harm  in  saying  what  I  did  in  the  ad 
vertisement.  If  I  am  in  error,  he  will  merely  sup 
pose  that  I  have  been  misled  by  some  circumstance 
into  which  he  will  not  take  the  trouble  to  inquire. 
But  if  I  am  right,  a  great  point  is  gained.  Cog 
nizant  although  innocent  of  the  murder,  the  French 
man  will  naturally  hesitate  about  replying  to  the 
advertisement — about  demanding  the  Orang-Ou- 
tang.  He  will  reason  thus : — 'I  am  innocent ;  I  am 
poor;  my  Orang-Outang  is  of  great  value — to  one 
in  my  circumstances  a  fortune  of  itself — why  should 
I  lose  it  through  idle  apprehensions  of  danger? 
Here  it  is,  within  my  grasp.  It  was  found  in  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne — at  a  vast  distance  from  the  scene 
of  that  butchery.  How  can  it  ever  be  suspected  that 
a  brute  beast  should  have  done  the  deed?  The 
police  are  at  fault — they  have  failed  to  procure  the 
slightest  clew.  Should  they  even  trace  the  animal, 
it  would  be  impossible  to  prove  me  cognizant  of  the 
murder,  or  to  implicate  me  in  guilt  on  account  of 
that  cognizance.  Above  all,  I  am  known.  The 
advertiser  designates  me  as  the  possessor  of  the 
beast.  I  am  not  sure  to  what  limit  his  knowledge 
may  extend.  Should  I  avoid  claiming  a  property 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     239 

of  so  great  value,  which  it  is  known  that  I  possess, 
I  will  render  the  animal  at  least  liable  to  suspicion. 
It  is  not  my  policy  to  attract  attention  either  to  my 
self  or  to  the  beast.  I  will  answer  the  advertise 
ment,  get  the  Orang-Outang,  and  keep  it  close  un 
til  this  matter  has  blown  over/ ' 

At  this  moment  we  heard  a  step  upon  the  stairs. 

"Be  ready,"  said  Dupin,  "with  your  pistols,  but 
neither  use  them  nor  show  them  until  at  a  signal 
from  myself." 

The  front  door  of  the  house  had  been  left  open, 
and  the  visitor  had  entered,  without  ringing,  and 
advanced  several  steps  upon  the  staircase.  Now, 
however,  he  seemed  to  hesitate.  Presently  we 
heard  him  descending.  Dupin  was  moving  quickly 
to  the  door,  when  we  again  heard  him  coming  up. 
He  did  not  turn  back  a  second  time,  but  stepped  up 
with  decision,  and  rapped  at  the  door  of  our 
chamber. 

"Come  in,"  said  Dupin,  in  a  cheerful  and  hearty 
tone. 

A  man  entered.  He  was  a  sailor,  evidently — a 
tall,  stout,  and  muscular-looking  person,  with  a 
certain  dare-devil  expression  of  countenance,  not  al 
together  unprepossessing.  His  face,  greatly  sun 
burned,  was  more  than  half  hidden  by  whisker  and 
mustachio.  He  had  with  him  a  huge  oaken  cudgel, 
but  appeared  to  be  otherwise  unarmed.  He  bowed 
awkwardly,  and  bade  us  "good-evening,"  in  French 


240        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

accents,  which,  although  somewhat  Neufchatelish, 
were  still  sufficiently  indicative  of  a  Parisian  origin. 
"Sit  down,  my  friend,"  said  Dupin.  "I  suppose 
you  have  called  about  the  Orang-Outang.  Upon 
my  word,  I  almost  envy  you  the  possession  of  him; 
a  remarkably  fine,  and  no  doubt  a  very  valuable 
animal.  How  old  do  you  suppose  him  to  be  ?" 

The  sailor  drew  a  long  breath,  with  the  air  of  a 
man  relieved  of  some  intolerable  burden,  and  then 
replied,  in  an  assured  tone: 

"I  have  no  way  of  telling — but  he  can't  be  more 
than  four  or  five  years  old.  Have  you  got  him 
here?" 

"Oh,  no;  we  had  no  conveniences  for  keeping 
him  here.  He  is  at  a  livery  stable  in  the  Rue  Du- 
bourg,  just  by.  You  can  get  him  in  the  morning. 
Of  course  you  are  prepared  to  identify  the  prop 
erty?" 

"To  be  sure  I  am,  sir." 

"I  shall  be  sorry  to  part  with  him/'  said  Dupin. 
"I  don't  mean  that  you  should  be  at  all  this  trouble 
for  nothing,  sir,"  said  the  man.     "Couldn't  expect  it. 
Am  very  willing  to  pay  a  reward  for  the  finding  of 
the  animal — that  is  to  say,  anything  in  reason." 

"Well,"  replied  my  friend,  "that  is  all  very  fair, 
to  be  sure.  Let  me  think! — what  should  I  have? 
Oh !  I  will  tell  you.  My  reward  shall  be  this.  You 
shall  give  me  all  the  information  in  your  power 
about  these  murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue." 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     241 

Dupin  said  the  last  words  in  a  very  low  tone,  and 
very  quietly.  Just  as  quietly,  too,  he  walked  toward 
the  door,  locked  it,  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket. 
He  then  drew  a  pistol  from  his  bosom  and  placed  it, 
without  the  least  flurry,  upon  the  table. 

The  sailor's  face  flushed  up  as  if  he  were  strug 
gling  with  suffocation.  He  started  to  his  feet  and 
grasped  his  cudgel;  but  the  next  moment  he  fell 
back  into  his  seat,  trembling  violently,  and  with  the 
countenance  of  death  itself.  He  spoke  not  a  word. 
I  pitied  him  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 

"My  friend,"  said  Dupin,  in  a  kind  tone,  "you  are 
alarming  yourself  unnecessarily — you  are  indeed. 
We  mean  you  no  harm  whatever.  I  pledge  you  the 
honor  of  a  gentleman,  and  of  a  Frenchman,  that  we 
intend  you  no  injury.  I  perfectly  well  know  that 
you  are  innocent  of  the  atrocities  in  the  Rue  Morgue. 
It  will  not  do,  however,  to  deny  that  you  are  in  some 
measure  implicated  in  them.  From  what  I  have  al 
ready  said,  you  must  know  that  I  have  had  means  of 
information  about  this  matter — means  of  which  you 
could  never  have  dreamed.  Now,  the  thing  stands 
thus.  You  have  done  nothing  which  you  could  have 
avoided — nothing,  certainly,  which  renders  you  cul 
pable.  You  were  not  even  guilty  of  robbery,  when 
you  might  have  robbed  with  impunity.  You  have 
nothing  to  conceal.  You  have  no  reason  for  con 
cealment.  On  the  other  hand,  you  are  bound  by 
every  principle  of  honor  to  confess  all  you  know. 

I— Poe— 11 


242         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

An  innocent  man  is  now  imprisoned,  charged  with 
that  crime  of  which  you  can  point  out  the  perpetra 
tor." 

The  sailor  had  recovered  his  presence  of  mind,  in 
a  great  measure,  while  Dupin  uttered  these  words; 
but  his  original  boldness  of  bearing  was  all  gone. 

"So  help  me  God!"  said  he,  after  a  brief  pause, 
"I  will  tell  you  all  I  know  about  this  affair; — but  I 
do  not  expect  you  to  believe  one  half  I  say — I  would 
be  a  fool  indeed  if  I  did.  Still,  I  am  innocent,  and 
I  will  make  a  clean  breast  if  I  die  for  it." 

What  he -stated  was,  in  substance,  this.  He  had 
lately  made  a  voyage  to  the  Indian  Archipelago.  A 
party,  of  which  he  formed  one,  landed  at  Borneo, 
and  passed  into  the  interior  on  an  excursion  of  pleas 
ure.  Himself  and  a  companion  had  captured  the 
Orang-Outang.  This  companion  dying,  the  animal 
fell  into  his  own  exclusive  possession.  After  a  great 
trouble,  occasioned  by  the  intractable  ferocity  of  his 
captive  during  the  home  voyage,  he  at  length  suc 
ceeded  in  lodging  it  safely  at  his  own  residence  in 
Paris,  where,  not  to  attract  toward  himself  the  un 
pleasant  curiosity  of  his  neighbors,  he  kept  it  care 
fully  secluded,  until  such  time  as  it  should  recover 
from  a  wound  in  the  foot,  received  from  a  splinter 
on  board  ship.  His  ultimate  design  was  to  sell  it. 

Returning  home  from  some  sailor's  frolic  on  the 
night,  or  rather  in  the  morning,  of  the  murder,  he 
found  the  beast  occupying  his  own  bedroom,  into 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     243 

which  it  had  broken  from  a  closet  adjoining,  where  it 
had  been,  as  was  thought,  securely  confined.  Razor 
in  hand,  and  fully  lathered,  it  was  sitting  before  a 
looking-glass,  attempting  the  operation  of  shaving, 
in  which  it  had  no  doubt  previously  watched  its  mas 
ter  through  the  keyhole  of  the  closet.  Terrified  at 
the  sight  of  so  dangerous  a  weapon  in  the  possession 
of  an  animal  so  ferocious,  and  so  well  able  to  use  it, 
the  man,  for  some  moments,  was  at  a  loss  what  to 
do.  He  had  been  accustomed,  however,  to  quiet  the 
creature,  even  in  its  fiercest  moods,  by  the  use  of  a 
whip,  and  to  this  he  now  resorted.  Upon  sight  of 
it,  the  Orang-Outang  sprang  at  once  through  the 
door  of  the  chamber,  down  the  stairs,  and  thence, 
through  a  window,  unfortunately  open,  into  the 
street. 

The  Frenchman  followed  in  despair ;  the  ape,  razor 
still  in  hand,  occasionally  stopping  to  look  back  and 
gesticulate  at  his  pursuer,  until  the  latter  had  nearly 
come  up  with  it.  It  then  again  made  off.  In  this 
manner  the  chase  continued  for  a  long  time.  The 
streets  were  profoundly  quiet,  as  it  was  nearly  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  In  passing  down  an  alley  in 
the  rear  of  the  Rue  Morgue,  the  fugitive's  attention 
was  arrested  by  a  light  gleaming  from  the  open  win 
dow  of  Madame  L'Espanaye's  chamber,  in  the  fourth 
story  of  her  house.  Rushing  to  the  building,  it  per 
ceived  the  lightning-rod,  clambered  up  with  incon 
ceivable  agility,  grasped  the  shutter,  which  was 


244         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

thrown  fully  back  against  the  wall,  and,  by  its  means, 
swung  itself  directly  upon  the  headboard  of  the  bed. 
The  whole  feat  did  not  occupy  a  minute.  The  shut 
ter  was  kicked  open  again  by  the  Orang-Outang  as 
it  entered  the  room. 

The  sailor,  in  the  meantime,  was  both  rejoiced  and 
perplexed.  He  had  strong  hopes  of  now  recapturing 
the  brute,  as  it  could  scarcely  escape  from  the  trap 
into  which  it  had  ventured,  except  by  the  rod,  where 
it  might  be  intercepted  as  it  came  down.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  was  much  cause  for  anxiety  as  to 
what  it  might  do  in  the  house.  This  latter  reflection 
urged  the  man  still  to  follow  the  fugitive.  A  light 
ning-rod  is  ascended  without  difficulty,  especially  by 
a  sailor;  but,  when  he  had  arrived  as  high  as  the 
window,  which  lay  far  to  his  left,  his  career  was 
stopped;  the  most  that  he  could  accomplish  was  to 
reach  over  so  as  to  obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  interior  of 
the  room.  At  this  glimpse  he  nearly  fell  from  his 
hold  through  excess  of  horror.  Now  it  was  that 
those  hideous  shrieks  arose  upon  the  night,  which 
had  startled  from  slumber  the  inmates  of  the  Rue 
Morgue.  Madame  L'Espanaye  and  her  daughter, 
habited  in  their  night  clothes,  had  apparently  been 
occupied  in  arranging  some  papers  in  the  iron  chest 
already  mentioned,  which  had  been  wheeled  into  the 
middle  of  the  room.  It  was  open,  and  its  contents 
lay  beside  it  on  the  floor.  The  victims  must  have 
been  sitting  with  their  backs  toward  the  window; 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     245 

and,  from  the  time  elapsing  between  the  ingress  of 
the  beast  and  the  screams,  it  seems  probable  that  it 
was  not  immediately  perceived.  The  flapping  to  of 
the  shutter  would  naturally  have  been  attributed  to 
the  wind. 

As  the  sailor  looked  in,  the  gigantic  animal  had 
seized  Madame  L'Espanaye  by  the  hair  (which  was 
loose,  as  she  had  been  combing  it),  and  was  flourish 
ing  the  razor  about  her  face,  in  imitation  of  the  mo 
tions  of  a  barber.  The  daughter  lay  prostrate  and 
motionless;  she  had  swooned.  The  screams  and 
struggles  of  the  old  lady  ( during  which  the  hair  was 
torn  from  her  head)  had  the  effect  of  changing  the 
probably  pacific  purposes  of  the  Orang-Outang  into 
those  of  wrath.  With  one  determined  sweep  of  its 
muscular  arm  it  nearly  severed  her  head  from  her 
body.  The  sight  of  blood  inflamed  its  anger  into 
frenzy.  Gnashing  its  teeth,  and  flashing  fire  from 
its  eyes,  it  flew  upon  the  body  of  the  girl  and  im 
bedded  its  fearful  talons  in  her  throat,  retaining  its 
grasp  until  she  expired.  Its  wandering  and  wild 
glances  fell  at  this  moment  upon  the  head  of  the  bed, 
over  which  the  face  of  its  master,  rigid  with  horror, 
was  just  discernible.  The  fury  of  the  beast,  who 
no  doubt  bore  still  in  mind  the  dreaded  whip,  was  in 
stantly  converted  into  fear.  Conscious  of  having  de 
served  punishment,  it  seemed  desirous  of  concealing 
its  bloody  deeds,  and  skipped  about  the  chamber  in 
an  agony  of  nervous  agitation;  throwing  down  and 


246         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

breaking  the  furniture  as  it  moved,  and  dragging  the 
bed  from  the  bedstead.  In  conclusion,  it  seized  first 
the  corpse  of  the  daughter,  and  thrust  it  up  the  chim 
ney,  as  it  was  found ;  then  that  of  the  old  lady,  which 
it  immediately  hurled  through  the  window  headlong. 

As  the  ape  approached  the  casement  with  its  muti 
lated  burden,  the  sailor  shrank  aghast  to  the  rod, 
and,  rather  gliding  than  clambering  down  it,  hur 
ried  at  once  home — dreading  the  consequences  of  the 
butchery,  and  gladly  abandoning,  in  his  terror,  all 
solicitude  about  the  fate  of  the  Orang-Outang.  The 
words  heard  by  the  party  upon  the  staircase  were  the 
Frenchman's  exclamations  of  horror  and  affright, 
commingled  with  the  fiendish  jabberings  of  the 
brute. 

I  have  scarcely  anything  to  add.  The  Orang- 
Outang  must  have  escaped  from  the  chamber,  by  the 
rod,  just  before  the  breaking  of  the  door.  It  must 
have  closed  the  window  as  it  passed  through  it.  It 
was  subsequently  caught  by  the  owner  himself,  who 
obtained  for  it  a  very  large  sum  at  the  Jardin  des 
Plantes.  Le  Bon  was  instantly  released,  upon  our 
narration  of  the  circumstances  (with  some  comments 
from  Dupin)  at  the  bureau  of  the  Prefect  of  Police. 
This  functionary,  however  well  disposed  to  my 
friend,  could  not  altogether  conceal  his  chagrin  at 
the  trun  which  affairs  had  taken,  and  was  fain  to  in 
dulge  in  a  sarcasm  or  two  about  the  propriety  of 
every  person  minding  his  own  business. 


The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue     247 

"Let  him  talk,"  said  Dupin,  who  had  not  thought 
it  necessary  to  reply.  "Let  him  discourse;  it  will 
ease  his  conscience.  I  am  satisfied  with  having  de 
feated  him  in  his  own  castle.  Nevertheless,  that  he 
failed  in  the  solution  of  this  mystery,  is  by  no  means 
that  matter  for  wonder  which  he  supposes  it ;  for,  in 
truth,  our  friend  the  Prefect  is  somewhat  too  cun 
ning  to  be  profound.  In  his  wisdom  is  no  stamen. 
It  is  all  head  and  no  body,  like  the  pictures  of  the 
Goddess  Laverna — or,  at  best,  all  head  and  shoul 
ders,  like  a  codfish.  But  he  is  a  good  creature  after 
all.  I  like  him  especially  for  one  master  stroke  of 
cant,  by  which  he  has  attained  his  reputation  for  in 
genuity  ;  I  mean  the  way  he  has  'de  nier  ce  qui  est,  et 
d'expliquer  ce  qui  riest  pas.'  "* 

*  Rousseau — Nouvelle  Heloise. 


THE    MYSTERY   OF    MARIE    ROGET  * 

A  SEQUEL  TO  "THE  MURDERS  IN  THE  RUE  MORGUE" 

Es  giebt  eine  Reihe  idealischer  Begebenheiten,  die  der  Wirk- 
lichkeit  parallel  lauft.  Selten  fallen  sie  zusammen.  Men- 
schen  und  zufalle  modificiren  gewohnlich  die  idealische 
Begenbenheit,  so  dass  sie  unvollkommen  erscheint,  und 
ihre  Folgen  gleichfalls  unvollkommen  sind.  So  bei  der  Ref 
ormation;  statt  des  Protestantismus  kam  das  Lutherthum 
hervor. 

There  are  ideal  series  of  events  which  run  parallel  with  the 
real  ones.  They  rarely  coincide.  Men  and  circumstances 
generally  modify  the  ideal  train  of  events,  so  that  it  seems 
imperfect,  and  its  consequences  are  equally  imperfect.  Thus 
with  the  Reformation;  instead  of  Protestantism  came  Lu- 
theranism. — Novalis.\  "Moral  Ansichten" 

THERE  are  few  persons,  even  among  the  calmest 
thinkers,  who  have  not  occasionally  been  star 
tled  into  a  vague  yet  thrilling  half-credence  in  the 
supernatural,  by  coincidences  of  so  seemingly  mar 
vellous  a  character  that,  as  mere  coincidences,  the  in 
tellect  has  been  unable  to  receive  them.  Such  senti 
ments — for  the  half -credences  of  which  I  speak  have 

*  Upon  the  original  publication  of  "Marie  Roget,"  the  foot 
notes  now  appended  were  considered  unnecessary ;  but  the 
lapse  of  several  years  since  the  tragedy  upon  which  the  tale  is 
based,  renders  it  expedient  to  give  them,  and  also  to  say  a  few 
words  in  explanation  of  the  general  design.  A  young  girl, 
Mary  Cecilia  Rogers,  was  murdered  in  the  vicinity  of  New 


f  The  nom  de  plume  of  Von  Hardenburg. 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        249 

never  the  full  force  of  thought — such  sentiments  are 
seldom  thoroughly  stifled  unless  by  reference  to  the 
doctrine  of  chance,  or,  as  it  is  technically  termed,  the 
Calculus  of  Probabilities.  Now,  this  Calculus  is,  in 
its  essence,  purely  mathematical;  and  thus  we  have 
the  anomaly  of  the  most  rigidly  exact  in  science  ap 
plied  to  the  shadow  and  spirituality  of  the  most  in 
tangible  in  speculation. 

The  extraordinary  details  which  I  am  now  called 
upon  to  make  public,  will  be  found  to  form,  as  re 
gards  sequence  of  time,  the  primary  branch  of  a 
series  of  scarcely  intelligible  coincidences,  whose  sec 
ondary  or  concluding  branch  will  be  recognized  by 

York;  and  although  her  death  occasioned  an  intense  and 
long-enduring  excitement,  the  mystery  attending  it  had  re 
mained  unsolved  at  the  period  when  the  present  paper  was 
written  and  published  (November,  1842).  Herein,  under 
pretence  of  relating  the  fate  of  a  Parisian  grisette,  the  author 
has  followed,  in  minute  detail,  the  essential,  while  merely 
paralleling  the  inessential,  facts  of  the  real  murder  of  Mary 
Rogers.  Thus  all  argument  founded  upon  the  fiction  is  ap 
plicable  to  the  truth:  and  the  investigation  of  the  truth  was 
the  object. 

The  "Mystery  of  Marie  Roget"  was  composed  at  a  distance 
from  the  scene  of  the  atrocity,  and  with  no  other  means  of  in 
vestigation  than  the  newspapers  afforded.  Thus  much  escaped 
the  writer  of  which  he  could  have  availed  himself  had  he  been 
upon  the  spot  and  visited  the  localities.  It  may  not  be  im 
proper  to  record,  nevertheless,  that  the  confessions  of  two 
persons  (one  of  them  the  Madame  Deluc  of  the  narrative), 
made,  at  different  periods,  long  subsequent  to  the  publica 
tion,  confirmed,  in  full,  not  only  the  general  conclusion,  but 
absolutely  all  the  chief  hypothetical  details  by  which  that 
conclusion  was  attained. 


250        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

all  readers  in  the  late  murder  of  MARIE  CECILIA 
ROGERS,  at  New  York. 

When,  in  an  article  entitled  "The  Murders  in  the 
Rue  Morgue,"  I  endeavored,  about  a  year  ago,  to 
depict  some  very  remarkable  features  in  the  mental 
character  of  my  friend,  the  Chevalier  C.  Auguste 
Dupin,  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  I  should  ever  re 
sume  the  subject.  This  depicting  of  character  con 
stituted  my  design;  and  this  design  was  thoroughly 
fulfilled  in  the  wild  train  of  circumstances  brought 
to  instance  Dupin's  idiosyncrasy.  I  might  have  ad 
duced  other  examples,  but  I  should  have  proved  no 
more.  Late  events,  however,  in  their  surprising  de 
velopment,  have  startled  me  into  some  further  details, 
which  will  carry  with  them  the  air  of  extorted  con 
fession.  Hearing  what  I  have  lately  heard,  it  would 
be  indeed  strange  should  I  remain  silent  in  regard  to 
what  I  both  heard  and  saw  so  long  ago. 

Upon  the  winding  up  of  the  tragedy  involved  in 
the  deaths  of  Madame  L'Espanaye  and  her  daughter, 
the  Chevalier  dismissed  the  affair  at  once  from  his 
attention,  and  relapsed  into  his  old  habits  of  moody 
revery.  Prone,  at  all  times,  to  abstraction,  I  read 
ily  fell  in  with  his  humor ;  and  continuing  to  occupy 
our  chambers  in  the  Faubourg  Saint  Germain,  we 
gave  the  Future  to  the  winds,  and  slumbered  tran 
quilly  in  the  Present,  weaving  the  dull  world  around 
us  into  dreams. 

But  these  dreams  were  not  altogether  uninter- 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        251 

rupted.  It  may  readily  be  supposed  that  the  part 
played  by  my  friend  in  the  drama  at  the  Rue 
Morgue  had  not  failed  of  its  impression  upon  the 
fancies  of  the  Parisian  police.  With  its  emissaries, 
the  name  of  Dupin  had  grown  into  a  household 
word.  The  simple  character  of  those  inductions  by 
which  he  had  disentangled  the  mystery  never  having 
been  explained  even  to  the  Prefect,  or  to  any  other 
individual  than  myself,  of  course  it  is  not  surprising 
that  the  affair  was  regarded  as  little  less  than  miracu 
lous,  or  that  the  Chevalier's  analytical  abilities  ac 
quired  for  him  the  credit  of  intuition.  His  frank 
ness  would  have  led  him  to  disabuse  every  inquirer 
of  such  prejudice;  but  his  indolent  humor  forbade 
all  further  agitation  of  a  topic  whose  interest  to  him 
self  had  long  ceased.  It  thus  happened  that  he 
found  himself  the  cynosure  of  the  political  eyes ;  and 
the  cases  were  not  few  in  which  attempt  was  made  to 
engage  his  services  at  the  Prefecture.  One  of  the 
most  remarkable  instances  was  that  of  the  murder  of 
a  young  girl  named  Marie  Roget. 

This  event  occurred  about  two  years  after  the 
atrocity  in  the  Rue  Morgue.  Marie,  whose  Chris 
tian  and  family  name  will  at  once  arrest  attention 
from  their  resemblance  to  those  of  the  unfortunate 
"cigar  girl,"  was  the  only  daughter  of  the  widow 
Estelle  Roget.  The  father  had  died  during  the 
child's  infancy,  and  from  the  period  of  his  death, 
until  within  eighteen  months  before  the  assassination 


252         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

which  forms  the  subject  of  our  narrative,  the  mother 
and  daughter  had  dwelt  together  in  the  Rue  Pavee 
Saint  Andree* ;  Madame  there  keeping  a  pension,  as 
sisted  by  Marie.  Affairs  went  on  thus  until  the  lat 
ter  had  attained  her  twenty-second  year,  when  her 
great  beauty  attracted  the  notice  of  a  perfumer,  who 
occupied  one  of  the  shops  in  the  basement  of  the 
Palais  Royal,  and  whose  custom  lay  chiefly  among 
the  desperate  adventurers  infesting  that  neighbor 
hood.  Monsieur  Le  Blanc t  was  not  unaware  of  the 
advantages  to  be  derived  from  the  attendance  of  the 
fair  Marie  in  his  perfumery ;  and  his  liberal  proposals 
were  accepted  eagerly  by  the  girl,  although  with 
somewhat  more  of  hesitation  by  Madame. 

The  anticipations  of  the  shopkeeper  were  realized, 
and  his  rooms  soon  became  notorious  through  the 
charms  of  the  sprightly  grisette.  She  had  been  in 
his  employ  about  a  year,  when  her  admirers  were 
thrown  into  confusion  by  her  sudden  disappearance 
from  the  shop.  Monsieur  Le  Blanc  was  unable  to 
account  for  her  absence,  and  Madame  Roget  was  dis 
tracted  with  anxiety  and  terror.  The  public  papers 
immediately  took  up  the  theme,  and  the  police  were 
upon  the  point  of  making  serious  investigations, 
when,  one  fine  morning,  after  the  lapse  of  a  week, 
Marie,  in  good  health,  but  with  a  somewhat  sad 
dened  air,  made  her  reappearance  at  her  usual 
counter  in  the  perfumery.  All  inquiry,  except  that 

*  Nassau  Street.  f  Anderson. 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        253 

of  a  private  character,  was,  of  course,  immediately 
hushed.  Monsieur  Le  Blanc  professed  total  igno 
rance,  as  before.  Marie,  with  Madame,  replied  to 
all  questions,  that  the  last  week  had  been  spent  at 
the  house  of  a  relation  in  the  country.  Thus  the 
affair  died  away,  and  was  generally  forgotten;  for 
the  girl,  ostensibly  to  relieve  herself  from  the  im 
pertinence  of  curiosity,  soon  bade  a  final  adieu  to  the 
perfumer,  and  sought  the  shelter  of  her  mother's 
residence  in  the  Rue  Pavee  Saint  Andree. 

It  was  about  five  months  after  this  return  home, 
that  her  friends  were  alarmed  by  her  sudden  disap 
pearance  for  the  second  time.  Three  days  elapsed, 
and  nothing  was  heard  of  her.  On  the  fourth  her 
corpse  was  found  floating  in  the  Seine,*  near  the 
shore  which  is  opposite  the  Quartier  of  the  Rue  Saint 
Andree,  and  at  a  point  not  very  far  distant  from  the 
secluded  neighborhood  of  the  Barriere  du  Roule.t 

The  atrocity  of  this  murder  (for  it  was  at  once 
evident  that  murder  had  been  committed),  the  youth 
and  beauty  of  the  victim,  and,  above  all,  her  previous 
notoriety,  conspired  to  produce  intense  excitement 
in  the  minds  of  the  sensitive  Parisians.  I  can  call  to 
mind  no  similar  occurrence  producing  so  general  and 
so  intense  an  effect.  For  several  weeks,  in  the  dis 
cussion  of  this  one  absorbing  theme,  even  the  mo 
mentous  political  topics  of  the  day  were  forgotten. 
The  prefect  made  unusual  exertions ;  and  the  powers 
*  The  Hudson.  fWeehawken. 


254        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

of  the  whole  Parisian  police  were,  of  course,  tasked 
to  the  utmost  extent. 

Upon  the  first  discovery  of  the  corpse,  it  was  not 
supposed  that  the  murderer  would  be  able  to  elude, 
for  more  than  a  very  brief  period,  the  inquisition 
which  was  immediately  set  on  foot.  It  was  not  until 
the  expiration  of  a  week  that  it  was  deemed  neces 
sary  to  offer  a  reward;  and  even  then  this  reward 
was  limited  to  a  thousand  francs.  In  the  meantime 
the  investigation  proceeded  with  vigor,  if  not  always 
with  judgment,  and  numerous  individuals  were  ex 
amined  to  no  purpose ;  while,  owing  to  the  continual 
absence  of  all  clew  to  the  mystery,  the  popular  ex 
citement  greatly  increased.  At  the  end  of  the  tenth 
day  it  was  thought  advisable  to  double  the  sum  origi 
nally  proposed ;  and,  at  length,  the  second  week  hav 
ing  elapsed  without  leading  to  any  discoveries,  and  the 
prejudice  which  always  exists  in  Paris  against  the 
police  having  given  vent  to  itself  in  several  serious 
emeutes,  the  prefect  took  it  upon  himself  to  offer  the 
sum  of  twenty  thousand  francs  "for  the  conviction 
of  the  assassin/'  or,  if  more  than  one  should  prove 
to  have  been  implicated,  "for  the  conviction  of  any 
one  of  the  assassins."  In  the  proclamation  setting 
forth  this  reward,  a  full  pardon  was  promised  to  any 
accomplice  who  should  come  forward  in  evidence 
against  his  fellow;  and  to  the  whole  was  appended, 
wherever  it  appeared,  the  private  placard  of  a  com 
mittee  of  citizens,  offering  ten  thousand  francs,  in 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        255 

addition  to  the  amount  proposed  by  the  Prefecture. 
The  entire  reward  thus  stood  at  no  less  than  thirty 
thousand  francs,  which  will  be  regarded  as  an  ex 
traordinary  sum  when  we  consider  the  humble  con 
dition  of  the  girl,  and  the  great  frequency,  in  large 
cities,  of  such  atrocities  as  the  one  described. 

No  one  doubted  now  that  the  mystery  of  this  mur 
der  would  be  immediately  brought  to  light.  But  al 
though,  in  one  or  two  instances,  arrests  were  made 
which  promised  elucidation,  yet  nothing  was  elicited 
which  could  implicate  the  parties  suspected ;  and  they 
were  discharged  forthwith.  Strange  as  it  may 
appear,  the  third  week  from  the  discovery  of  the 
body  had  passed,  and  passed  without  any  light  being 
thrown  upon  the  subject,  before  even  a  rumor  of  the 
events  which  had  so  agitated  the  public  mind  reached 
the  ears  of  Dupin  and  myself.  Engaged  in  researches 
which  had  absorbed  our  whole  attention,  it  had  been 
nearly  a  month  since  either  of  us  had  gone  abroad, 
or  received  a  visitor,  or  more  than  glanced  at  the 
leading  political  articles  in  one  of  the  daily  papers. 
The  first  intelligence  of  the  murder  was  brought  us 

by  G ,  in  person.     He  called  upon  us  early  in  the 

afternoon  of  the  thirteenth  of  July,  18 — ,  and  re 
mained  with  us  until  late  in  the  night.  He  had  been 
piqued  by  the  failure  of  all  his  endeavors  to  ferret  out 
the  assassins.  His  reputation — so  he  said  with  a 
peculiarly  Parisian  air — was  at  stake.  Even  his 
honor  was  concerned.  The  eyes  of  the  public  were 


256         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

upon  him ;  and  there  was  really  no  sacrifice  which  he 
would  not  be  willing  to  make  for  the  development  of 
the  mystery.  He  concluded  a  somewhat  droll  speech 
with  a  compliment  upon  what  he  was  pleased  to  term 
the  tact  of  Dupin,  and  made  him  a  direct  and  cer 
tainly  a  liberal  proposition,  the  precise  nature  of 
which  I  do  not  feel  myself  at  liberty  to  disclose,  but 
which  has  no  bearing  upon  the  proper  subject  of  my 
narrative. 

The  compliment  my  friend  rebutted  as  best  he 
could,  but  the  proposition  he  accepted  at  once,  al 
though  its  advantages  were  altogether  provisional. 
This  point  being  settled,  the  Prefect  broke  forth  at 
once  into  explanations  of  his  own  views,  interspers 
ing  them  with  long  comments  upon  the  evidence;  of 
which  latter  we  were  not  yet  in  possession.  He  dis 
coursed  much,  and,  beyond  doubt,  learnedly ;  while  I 
hazarded  an  occasional  suggestion  as  the  night  wore 
drowsily  away.  Dupin,  sitting  steadily  in  his  accus 
tomed  armchair,  was  the  embodiment  of  respectful 
attention.  He  wore  spectacles  during  the  whole  in 
terview  ;  and  an  occasional  glance  beneath  their  green 
glasses  sufficed  to  convince  me  that  he  slept  not  the 
less  soundly,  because  silently,  throughout  the  seven 
or  eight  leaden-footed  hours  which  immediately  pre 
ceded  the  departure  of  the  Prefect. 

In  the  morning,  I  procured,  at  the  Prefecture,  a 
full  report  of  all  the  evidence  elicited,  and,  at  the  va 
rious  newspaper  offices,  a  copy  of  every  paper  in 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        257 

which,  from  first  to  last,  had  been  published  any  de 
cisive  information  in  regard  to  this  sad  affair.  Freed 
from  all  that  was  positively  disproved,  this  mass  of 
information  stood  thus : 

Marie  Roget  left  the  residence  of  her  mother,  in 
the  Rue  Pavee  St.  Andree,  about  nine  o'clock  in  the 
morning  of  Sunday,  June  the  twenty-second,  18 — . 
In  going  out,  she  gave  notice  to  a  Monsieur  Jacques 
St.  Eustache,*  and  to  him  only,  of  her  intention  to 
spend  the  day  with  an  aunt,  who  resided  in  the  Rue 
des  Dromes.  The  Rue  des  Dromes  is  a  short  and 
narrow  but  populous  thoroughfare,  not  far  from  the 
banks  of  the  river,  and  at  a  distance  of  some  two 
miles,  in  the  most  direct  course  possible,  from  the 
pension  of  Madame  Roget.  St.  Eustache  was  the 
accepted  suitor  of  Marie,  and  lodged,  as  well  as  took 
his  meals,  at  the  pension.  He  was  to  have  gone 
for  his  betrothed  at  dusk,  and  to  have  escorted  her 
home.  In  the  afternoon,  however,  it  came  on  to 
rain  heavily;  and,  supposing  that  she  would  remain 
all  night  at  her  aunt's  (as  she  had  done  under  similar 
circumstances  before),  he  did  not  think  it  necessary 
to  keep  his  promise.  As  night  drew  on,  Madame 
Roget  (who  was  an  infirm  old  lady,  seventy  years 
of  age)  was  heard  to  express  a  fear  "that  she  should 
never  see  Marie  again";  but  this  observation  at 
tracted  little  attention  at  the  time. 

On  Monday  it  was  ascertained  that  the  girl  had 

*  Payne. 


258         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

not  been  to  the  Rue  des  Dromes ;  and  when  the  day 
elapsed  without  tidings  of  her,  a  tardy  search  was 
instituted  at  several  points  in  the  city  and  its  en 
virons.  It  was  not,  however,  until  the  fourth  day 
from  the  period  of  her  disappearance  that  anything 
satisfactory  was  ascertained  respecting  her.  On  this 
day  (Wednesday,  the  twenty-fifth  of  June)  a  Mon 
sieur  Beauvais,*  who,  with  a  friend,  had  been  mak 
ing  inquiries  for  Marie  near  the  Barriere  du  Roule, 
on  the  shore  of  the  Seine  which  is  opposite  the  Rue 
Pavee  St.  Andree,  was  informed  that  a  corpse  had 
just  been  towed  ashore  by  some  fishermen,  who  had 
found  it  floating  in  the  river.  Upon  seeing  the  body, 
Beauvais,  after  some  hesitation,  identified  it  as  that 
of  the  perfumery  girl.  His  friend  recognized  it  more 
promptly. 

The  face  was  suffused  with  dark  blood,  some  of 
which  issued  from  the  mouth.  No  foam  was  seen, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  merely  drowned.  There  was  no 
discoloration  in  the  cellular  tissue.  About  the  throat 
were  bruises  and  impressions  of  fingers.  The  arms 
were  bent  over  on  the  chest,  and  were  rigid.  The 
right  hand  was  clenched ;  the  left  partially  open.  On 
the  left  wrist  were  two  circular  excoriations,  appar 
ently  the  effect  of  ropes,  or  of  a  rope  in  more  than 
one  volution.  A  part  of  the  right  wrist,  also,  was 
much  chafed,  as  well  as  the  back  throughout  its  ex- 

*  Crommelin. 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        259 

tent,  but  more  especially  at  the  shoulder-blades.  In 
bringing  the  body  to  the  shore  the  fishermen  had  at 
tached  to  it  a  rope,  but  none  of  the  excoriations  had 
been  effected  by  this.  The  flesh  of  the  neck  was 
much  swollen.  There  were  no  cuts  apparent,  or 
bruises  which  appeared  the  effect  of  blows.  A  piece 
of  lace  was  found  tied  so  tightly  around  the  neck  as 
to  be  hidden  from  sight ;  it  was  completely  buried  in 
the  flesh,  and  was  fastened  by  a  knot  which  lay  just 
under  the  left  ear.  This  alone  would  have  sufficed 
to  produce  death.  The  medical  testimony  spoke  con 
fidently  of  the  virtuous  character  of  the  deceased. 
She  had  been  subjected,  it  is  said,  to  brutal  violence. 
The  corpse  was  in  such  condition  when  found,  that 
there  could  have  been  no  difficulty  in  its  recognition 
by  friends. 

The  dress  was  much  torn  and  otherwise  disor 
dered.  In  the  outer  garment,  a  slip,  about  a  foot 
wide,  had  been  torn  upward  from  the  bottom  hem 
to  the  waist,  but  not  torn  off.  It  was  wound  three 
times  around  the  waist,  and  secured  by  a  sort  of  hitch 
in  the  back.  The  dress  immediately  beneath  the 
frock  was  of  fine  muslin ;  and  from  this  a  slip  eigh 
teen  inches  wide  had  been  torn  entirely  out — torn 
very  evenly  and  with  great  care.  It  was  found 
around  her  neck,  fitting  loosely,  and  secured  with  a 
hard  knot.  Over  this  muslin  slip  and  the  slip  of  lace 
the  strings  of  a  bonnet  were  attached,  the  bonnet  be 
ing  appended.  The  knot  by  which  the  strings  of 


260        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

the  bonnet  were  fastened  was  not  a  lady's,  but  a  slip 
or  sailor's  knot. 

After  the  recognition  of  the  corpse,  it  was  not,  as 
usual,  taken  to  the  Morgue  (this  formality  being  su 
perfluous),  but  hastily  interred  not  far  from  the  spot 
at  which  it  was  brought  ashore.  Through  the  exer 
tions  of  Beauvais,  the  matter  was  industriously 
hushed  up,  as  far  as  possible;  and  several  days  had 
elapsed  before  any  public  emotion  resulted.  A  weekly 
paper,*  however,  at  length  took  up  the  theme;  the 
corpse  was  disinterred,  and  a  re-examination  insti 
tuted  ;  but  nothing  was  elicited  beyond  what  has  been 
already  noted.  The  clothes,  however,  were  now  sub 
mitted  to  the  mother  and  friends  of  the  deceased,  and 
fully  identified  as  those  worn  by  the  girl  upon  leav 
ing  home. 

Meantime,  the  excitement  increased  hourly.  Sev 
eral  individuals  were  arrested  and  discharged.  St. 
Eustache  fell  especially  under  suspicion;  and  he 
failed,  at  first,  to  give  an  intelligible  account  of  his 
whereabout  during  the  Sunday  on  which  Marie  left 
home.  Subsequently,  however,  he  submitted  to  Mon 
sieur  G ,  affidavits,  accounting  satisfactorily  for 

every  hour  of  the  day  in  question.  As  time  passed 
no  discovery  ensued,  a  thousand  contradictory  ru 
mors  were  circulated,  and  journalists  busied  them 
selves  in  suggestions.  Among  these,  the  one  which 
attracted  the  most  notice  was  the  idea  that  Marie 
*  The  New  York  "Mercury." 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        261 

Roget  still  lived — that  the  corpse  found  in  the  Seine 
was  that  of  some  other  unfortunate.  It  will  be 
proper  that  I  submit  to  the  reader  some  passages 
which  embody  the  suggestion  alluded  to.  These 
passages  are  literal  translations  from  "L'Etoile,"*  a 
paper  conducted,  in  general,  with  much  ability. 

"Mademoiselle  Roget  left  her  mother's  house  on 
Sunday  morning,  June  the  twenty-second,  18 — ,  with 
the  ostensible  purpose  of  going  to  see  her  aunt,  or 
some  other  connection,  in  the  Rue  des  Dromes. 
From  that  hour  nobody  is  proved  to  have  seen  her. 
There  is  no  trace  or  tidings  of  her  at  all.  .  .  .  There 
has  no  person,  whatever,  come  forward,  so  far,  who 
saw  her  at  all  on  that  day,  after  she  left  her  mother's 
door.  .  .  .  Now,  though  we  have  no  evidence  that 
Marie  Roget  was  in  the  land  of  the  living  after  nine 
o'clock  on  Sunday,  June  the  twenty-second,  we  have 
proof  that,  up  to  that  hour,  she  was  alive.  On 
Wednesday  noon,  at  twelve,  a  female  body  was  dis 
covered  afloat  on  the  shore  of  the  Barriere  du  Roule. 
This  was,  even  if  we  presume  that  Marie  Roget  was 
thrown  into  the  river  within  three  hours  after  she 
left  her  mother's  house,  only  three  days  from  the 
time  she  left  her  home — three  days  to  an  hour.  But 
it  is  folly  to  suppose  that  the  murder,  if  murder  was 
committed  on  her  body,  could  have  been  consum- 

*  The  New  York  "Brother  Jonathan,"  edited  by  H.  Has 
tings  Weld,  Esq. 


262         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

mated  soon  enough  to  have  enabled  her  murderers  to 
throw  the  body  into  the  river  before  midnight. 
Those  who  are  guilty  of  such  horrid  crimes  choose 
darkness  rather  than  light.  .  .  .  Thus  we  see  that 
if  the  body  found  in  the  river  was  that  of  Marie 
Roget,  it  could  only  have  been  in  the  water  two  and 
a  half  days,  or  three  at  the  outside.  All  experience 
has  shown  that  drowned  bodies,  or  bodies  thrown 
into  the  water  immediately  after  death  by  violence, 
require  from  six  to  ten  days  for  sufficient  decompo 
sition  to  take  place  to  bring  them  to  the  top  of  the 
water.  Even  where  a  cannon  is  fired  over  a  corpse, 
and  it  rises  before  at  least  five  or  six  days'  immer 
sion,  it  sinks  again,  if  left  alone.  Now,  we  ask, 
what  was  there  in  this  case  to  cause  a  departure  from 
the  ordinary  course  of  nature?  ...  If  the  body 
had  been  kept  in  its  mangled  state  on  shore  until 
Tuesday  night,  some  trace  would  be  found  on  shore 
of  the  murderers.  It  is  a  doubtful  point,  also, 
whether  the  body  would  be  so  soon  afloat,  even  were 
it  thrown  in  after  having  been  dead  two  days.  And, 
furthermore,  it  is  exceedingly  improbable  that  any 
villains  who  had  committed  such  a  murder  as  is  here 
supposed,  would  have  thrown  the  body  in  without 
weight  to  sink  it,  when  such  a  precaution  could  have 
so  easily  been  taken." 

The  editor  here  proceeds  to  argue  that  the  body 
must  have  been  in  the  water  "not  three  days  merely, 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        263 

but,  at  least,  five  times  three  days,"  because  it  was  so 
far  decomposed  that  Beauvais  had  great  difficulty  in 
recognizing  it.  This  latter  point,  however,  was  fully 
disproved.  I  continue  the  translation : 

"What,  then,  are  the  facts  on  which  M.  Beauvais 
says  that  he  has  no  doubt  the  body  was  that  of  Marie 
Roget  ?  He  ripped  up  the  gown  sleeve,  and  says  he 
found  marks  which  satisfied  him  of  the  identity.  The 
public  generally  supposed  those  marks  to  have  con 
sisted  of  some  description  of  scars.  He  rubbed  the 
arm  and  found  hair  upon  it — something  as  indefi 
nite,  we  think,  as  can  readily  be  imagined — as  little 
conclusive  as  finding  an  arm  in  the  sleeve.  M.  Beau 
vais  did  not  return  that  night,  but  sent  word  to  Ma 
dame  Roget,  at  seven  o'clock,  on  Wednesday  even 
ing,  that  an  investigation  was  still  in  progress  re 
specting  her  daughter.  If  we  allow  that  Madame 
Roget,  from  her  age  and  grief,  could  not  go  over 
(which  is  allowing  a  great  deal),  there  certainly 
must  have  been  some  one  who  would  have  thought 
it  worth  while  to  go  over  and  attend  the  investiga 
tion,  if  they  thought  the  body  was  that  of  Marie. 
Nobody  went  over.  There  was  nothing  said  or  heard 
about  the  matter  in  the  Rue  Pavee  St.  Andree,  that 
reached  even  the  occupants  of  the  same  building. 
M.  St.  Eustache,  the  lover  and  intended  husband  of 
Marie,  who  boarded  in  her  mother's  house,  deposes 
that  he  did  not  hear  of  the  discovery  of  the  body  of 


264         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

his  intended  until  the  next  morning,  when  M.  Beau- 
vais  came  into  his  chamber  and  told  him  of  it.  For 
an  item  of  news  like  this,  it  strikes  us  it  was  very 
coolly  received." 

In  this  way  the  journal  endeavored  to  create  the 
impression  of  an  apathy  on  the  part  of  the  relatives 
of  Marie,  inconsistent  with  the  supposition  that  these 
relatives  believed  the  corpse  to  be  hers.  Its  insinua 
tions  amount  to  this:  that  Marie,  with  the  con 
nivance  of  her  friends,  had  absented  herself  from  the 
city  for  reasons  involving  a  charge  against  her  chas 
tity;  and  that  these  friends  upon  the  discovery  of  a 
corpse  in  the  Seine,  somewhat  resembling  that  of  the 
girl,  had  availed  themselves  of  the  opportunity  to 
impress  the  public  with  the  belief  of  her  death.  But 
"L'Etoile"  was  again  over-hasty.  It  was  distinctly 
proved  that  no  apathy,  such  as  was  imagined,  ex 
isted  ;  that  the  old  lady  was  exceedingly  feeble,  and 
so  agitated  as  to  be  unable  to  attend  to  any  duty; 
that  St.  Eustache,  so  far  from  receiving  the  news 
coolly,  was  distracted  with  grief,  and  bore  himself 
so  frantically,  that  M.  Beauvais  prevailed  upon  a 
friend  and  relative  to  take  charge  of  him,  and 
prevent  his  attending  the  examination  at  the  dis- 
interment.  Moreover,  although  it  was  stated  by 
"L'Etoile"  that  the  corpse  was  reinterred  at  the 
public  expense,  that  an  advantageous  offer  of  private 
sepulture  was  absolutely  declined  by  the  family,  and 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        265 

that  no  member  of  the  family  attended  the  cere 
monial; — although,  I  say,  all  this  was  asserted  by 
"L'Etoile"  in  furtherance  of  the  impression  it  de 
signed  to  convey — yet  all  this  was  satisfactorily  dis 
proved.  In  a  subsequent  number  of  the  paper,  an 
attempt  was  made  to  throw  suspicion  upon  Beauvais 
himself.  The  editor  says : 

"Now,  then,  a  change  comes  over  the  matter.  We 
are  told  that,  on  one  occasion,  while  a  Madame 

B was  at  Madame  Roget's  house,  M.  Beauvais, 

who  was  going  out,  told  her  that  a  gendarme  was 
expected  there,  and  that  she,  Madame  B.,  must  not 
say  anything  to  the  gendarme  until  he  returned,  but 
let  the  matter  be  for  him.  ...  In  the  present  pos 
ture  of  affairs,  M.  Beauvais  appears  to  have  the 
whole  matter  locked  up  in  his  head.  A  single  step 
can  not  be  taken  without  M.  Beauvais,  for,  go  which 
way  you  will,  you  run  against  him.  .  .  .  For  some 
reason  he  determined  that  nobody  shall  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  the  proceedings  but  himself,  and  he 
has  elbowed  the  male  relatives  out  of  the  way,  ac 
cording  to  their  representations,  in  a  very  singular 
manner.  He  seems  to  have  been  very  much  averse 
to  permitting  the  relatives  to  see  the  body." 

By  the  following  fact,  some  color  was  given  to  the 
suspicion  thus  thrown  upon  Beauvais.  A  visitor  at 
his  office,  a  few  days  prior  to  the  girl's  disappear 
ance,  and  during  the  absence  of  its  occupant,  had  ob- 

I-Poe-12 


266        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

served  a  rose  in  the  keyhole  of  the  door,  and  the 
name  "Marie"  inscribed  upon  a  slate  which  hung 
near  at  hand. 

The  general  impression,  so  far  as  we  were  enabled 
to  glean  it  from  the  newspapers,  seemed  to  be,  that 
Marie  had  been  the  victim  of  a  gang  of  desperadoes 
— that  by  these  she  had  been  borne  across  the  river, 
maltreated,  and  murdered.  "Le  Commerciel,"* 
however,  a  print  of  extensive  influence,  was  earnest 
in  combating  this  popular  idea.  I  quote  a  passage 
or  two  from  its  columns : 

"We  are  persuaded  that  pursuit  has  hitherto  been 
on  a  false  scent,  so  far  as  it  has  been  directed  to  the 
Barriere  du  Roule.  It  is  impossible  that  a  person 
so  well  known  to  thousands  as  this  young  woman 
was,  should  have  passed  three  blocks  without  some 
one  having  seen  her;  and  any  one  who  saw  her 
would  have  remembered  it,  for  she  interested  all  who 
knew  her.  It  was  when  the  streets  were  full  of 
people,  when  she  went  out.  ...  It  is  impossible 
that  she  could  have  gone  to  the  Barriere  du  Roule, 
or  to  the  Rue  des  Dromes,  without  being  recognized 
by  a  dozen  persons;  yet  no  one  has  come  forward 
who  saw  her  outside  her  mother's  door,  and  there  is 
no  evidence,  except  the  testimony  concerning  her 
expressed  intentions,  that  she  did  go  out  at  all.  Her 
gown  was  torn,  bound  round  her,  and  tied;  and  by 

*  New  York  "Journal  of  Commerce." 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        267 

that  the  body  was  carried  as  a  bundle.  If  the  mur 
der  had  been  committed  at  the  Barriere  du  Roule, 
there  would  have  been  no  necessity  for  any  such  ar 
rangement.  The  fact  that  the  body  was  found  float 
ing  near  the  Barriere  is  no  proof  as  to  where  it  was 
thrown  into  the  water.  ...  A  piece  of  one  of  the 
unfortunate  girl's  petticoats,  two  feet  long  and  one 
foot  wide,  was  torn  out  and  tied  under  her  chin 
around  the  back  of  her  head,  probably  to  prevent 
screams.  This  was  done  by  fellows  who  had  no 
pocket-handkerchief. " 

A  day  or  two  before  the  Prefect  called  upon  us, 
however,  some  important  information  reached  the 
police,  which  seemed  to  overthrow,  at  least,  the  chief 
portion  of  "Le  Commerciers"  argument.  Two 
small  boys,  sons  of  a  Madame  Deluc,  while  roaming 
among  the  woods  near  the  Barriere  du  Roule, 
chanced  to  penetrate  a  close  thicket,  within  which 
were  three  or  four  large  stones,  forming  a  kind  of 
seat  with  a  back  and  footstool.  On  the  upper  stone 
lay  a  white  petticoat ;  on  the  second,  a  silk  scarf.  A 
parasol,  gloves,  and  a  pocket-handkerchief  were  also 
here  found.  The  handkerchief  bore  the  name 
"Marie  Roget."  Fragments  of  dress  were  discov 
ered  on  the  brambles  around.  The  earth  was  tram 
pled,  the  bushes  were  broken,  and  there  was  every 
evidence  of  a  struggle.  Between  the  thicket  and  the 
river,  the  fences  were  found  taken  down,  and  the 


268         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

ground  bore  evidence  of  some  heavy  burden  having 
been  dragged  along  it. 

A  weekly  paper,  "Le  Soleil,"*  had  the  following 
comments  upon  this  discovery — comments  which 
merely  echoed  the  sentiment  of  the  whole  Parisian 
press : 

"The  things  had  all  evidently  been  there  at  least 
three  or  four  weeks;  they  were  all  mildewed  down 
hard  with  the  action  of  the  rain,  and  stuck  together 
from  mildew.  The  grass  had  grown  around  and 
over  some  of  them.  The  silk  on  the  parasol  was 
strong,  but  the  threads  of  it  were  run  together  with 
in.  The  upper  part,  where  it  had  been  doubled  and 
folded,  was  all  mildewed  and  rotten,  and  tore  on  its 
being  opened.  .  .  .  The  pieces  of  her  frock  torn 
out  by  the  bushes  were  about  three  inches  wide  and 
six  inches  long.  One  part  was  the  hem  of  the  frock, 
and  it  had  been  mended ;  the  other  piece  was  part  of 
the  skirt,  not  the  hem.  They  looked  like  strips  torn 
off,  and  were  on  the  thorn  bush,  about  a  foot  from 
the  ground.  .  .  .  There  can  be  no  doubt,  there 
fore,  that  the  spot  of  this  appalling  outrage  has  been 
discovered." 

Consequent  upon  this  discovery,  new  evidence  ap 
peared.  Madame  Deluc  testified  that  she  keeps  a 
roadside  inn  not  far  from  the  bank  of  the  river,  op- 

*  Philadelphia  "Saturday  Evening  Post,"  edited  by  C.  I 
Peterson,  Esq. 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        269 

posite  the  Barriere  du  Roule.  The  neighborhood  is 
secluded — particularly  so.  It  is  the  usual  Sunday 
resort  of  blackguards  from  the  city,  who  cross  the 
river  in  boats.  About  three  o'clock,  in  the  afternoon 
of  the  Sunday  in  question,  a  young  girl  arrived  at 
the  inn,  accompanied  by  a  young  man  of  dark  com 
plexion.  The  two  remained  here  for  some  time. 
On  their  departure,  they  took  the  road  to  some  thick 
woods  in  the  vicinity.  Madame  Deluc's  attention 
was  called  to  the  dress  worn  by  the  girl,  on  account 
its  resemblance  to  one  worn  by  a  deceased  relative. 
A  scarf  was  particularly  noticed.  Soon  after  the  de 
parture  of  the  couple,  a  gang  of  miscreants  made 
their  appearance,  behaved  boisterously,  ate  and 
drank  without  making  payment,  followed  in  the 
route  of  the  young  man  and  girl,  returned  to  the 
inn  about  dusk,  and  recrossed  the  river  as  if  in  great 
haste. 

It  was  soon  after  dark,  upon  this  same  evening, 
that  Madame  Deluc,  as  well  as  her  eldest  son,  heard 
the  screams  of  a  female  in  the  vicinity  of  the  inn. 
The  screams  were  violent  but  brief.  Madame  D. 
recognized  not  only  the  scarf  which  was  found  in  the 
thicket,  but  the  dress  which  was  discovered  upon  the 
corpse.  An  omnibus  driver,  Valence,*  now  also  tes 
tified  that  he  saw  Marie  Roget  cross  a  ferry  on  the 
Seine,  on  the  Sunday  in  question,  in  company  with 
a  young  man  of  dark  complexion.  He,  Valence, 
*  Adam. 


270         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

knew  Marie,  and  could  not  be  mistaken  in  her  iden 
tity.  The  articles  found  in  the  thicket  were  fully 
identified  by  the  relatives  of  Marie. 

The  items  of  evidence  and  information  thus  col 
lected  by  myself,  from  the  newspapers,  at  the  sugges 
tion  of  Dupin,  embraced  only  one  more  point — but 
this  was  a  point  of  seemingly  vast  consequence.  It 
appears  that,  immediately  after  the  discovery  of  the 
clothes  as  above  described,  the  lifeless  or  nearly  life 
less  body  of  St.  •  Eustache,  Marie's  betrothed,  was 
found  in  the  vicinity  of  what  all  now  supposed  the 
scene  of  the  outrage.  A  phial  labelled  "laudanum," 
and  emptied,  was  found  near  him.  His  breath  gave 
evidence  of  the  poison.  He  died  without  speaking. 
Upon  his  person  was  found  a  letter,  briefly  stating 
his  love  for  Marie,  with  his  design  of  self-destruc 
tion. 

"I  need  scarcely  tell  you,"  said  Dupin,  as  he  fin 
ished  the  perusal  of  my  notes,  "that  this  is  a  far 
more  intricate  case  than  that  of  the  Rue  Morgue; 
from  which  it  differs  in  one  important  respect.  This 
is  an  ordinary,  although  an  atrocious,  instance  of 
crime.  There  is  nothing  peculiarly  outre  about  it. 
You  will  observe  that,  for  this  reason,  the  mystery 
has  been  considered  easy,  when,  for  this  reason,  it 
should  have  been  considered  difficult,  of  solution. 
Thus,  at  first,  it  was  thought  unnecessary  to  offer  a 

reward.  The  myrmidons  of  G were  able  at 

once  to  comprehend  how  and  why  such  an  atrocity 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        271 

might  have  been  committed.  They  could  picture  to 
their  imaginations  a  mode — many  modes — and  a 
motive — many  motives;  and  because  it  was  not  im 
possible  that  either  of  these  numerous  modes  and 
motives  could  have  been  the  actual  one,  they  have 
taken  it  for  granted  that  one  of  them  must.  But  the 
ease  with  which  these  variable  fancies  were  enter 
tained,  and  the  very  plausibility  which  each  assumed, 
should  have  been  understood  as  indicative  rather  of 
the  difficulties  than  of  the  facilities  which  must  at 
tend  elucidation.  I  have,  therefore,  observed  that  it 
is  by  prominences  above  the  plane  of  the  ordinary, 
that  reason  feels  her  way,  if  at  all,  in  her  search  for 
the  true,  and  that  the  proper  question  in  cases  such 
as  this,  is  not  so  much  'what  has  occurred?'  as 
'what  has  occurred  that  has  never  occurred  before?' 
In  the  investigations  at  the  house  of  Madame  L'Es- 

panaye,*  the  agents  of  G were  discouraged  and 

confounded  by  that  very  unusualness  which,  to  a 
properly  regulated  intellect,  would  have  afforded  the 
surest  omen  of  success;  while  this  same  intellect 
might  have  been  plunged  in  despair  at  the  ordinary 
character  of  all  that  met  the  eye  in  the  case  of  the 
perfumery  girl,  and  yet  told  of  nothing  but  easy  tri 
umph  to  the  functionaries  of  the  Prefecture. 

"In  the  case  of  Madame  L'Espanaye  and  her 
daughter,  there  was,  even  at  the  beginning  of  our 

*  See  "Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue." 


272         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

investigation,  no  doubt  that  murder  had  been  com 
mitted.  The  idea  of  suicide  was  excluded  at  once. 
Here,  too,  we  are  freed,  at  the  commencement,  from 
all  supposition  of  self-murder.  The  body  found  at 
the  Barriere  du  Roule  was  found  under  such  cir 
cumstances  as  to  leave  us  no  room  for  embarrass 
ment  upon  this  important  point.  But  it  has  been 
suggested  that  the  corpse  discovered  is  not  that  of 
the  Marie  Roget  for  the  conviction  of  whose  as 
sassin,  or  assassins,  the  reward  is  offered,  and  re 
specting  whom,  solely,  our  agreement  has  been  ar 
ranged  with  the  Prefect.  We  both  know  this  gen 
tleman  well.  It  will  not  do  to  trust  him  too  far. 
If,  dating  our  inquiries  from  the  body  found,  and 
then  tracing  a  murderer,  we  yet  discover  this  body 
to  be  that  of  some  other  individual  than  Marie;  or 
if,  starting  from  the  living  Marie,  we  find  her,  yet 
find  her  unassassinated — in  either  case  we  lose  our  la 
bor  ;  since  it  is  Monsieur  G with  whom  we  have 

to  deal.  For  our  own  purpose,  therefore,  if  not  for 
the  purpose  of  justice,  it  is  indispensable  that  our 
first  step  should  be  the  determination  of  the  identity 
of  the  corpse  with  the  Marie  Roget  who  is  missing. 
"With  the  public  the  arguments  of  'L'Etoile'  have 
had  weight;  and  that  the  journal  itself  is  convinced 
of  their  importance  would  appear  from  the  manner 
in  which  it  commences  one  of  its  essays  upon  the 
subject — ' Several  of  the  morning  papers  of  the  day/ 
it  says,  'speak  of  the  conclusive  article  in  Monday's 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        273 

"Etoile."  To  me,  this  article  appears  conclusive 
of  little  beyond  the  zeal  of  its  inditer.  We  should 
bear  in  mind  that,  in  general,  it  is  the  object  of  our 
newspapers  rather  to  create  a  sensation — to  make  a 
point — than  to  further  the  cause  of  truth.  The  lat 
ter  end  is  only  pursued  when  it  seems  coincident  with 
the  former.  The  print  which  merely  falls  in  with 
ordinary  opinion  (however  well  founded  this  opinion 
may  be)  earns  for  itself  no  credit  with  the  mob. 
The  mass  of  the  people  regard  as  profound  only  Rim 
who  suggests  pungent  contradictions  of  the  general 
idea.  In  ratiocination,  not  less  than  in  literature,  it  is 
the  epigram  which  is  the  most  immediately  and  the 
most  universally  appreciated.  In  both,  it  is  of  the 
lowest  order  of  merit. 

"What  I  mean  to  say  is,  that  it  is  the  mingled 
epigram  and  melodrame  of  the  idea,  that  Marie 
Roget  still  lives,  rather  than  any  true  plausibility  in 
this  idea,  which  have  suggested  it  to  'L'Etoile/  and 
secured  it  a  favorable  reception  with  the  public.  Let 
us  examine  the  heads  of  this  journal's  argument ;  en 
deavoring  to  avoid  the  incoherence  with  which  it  is 
originally  set  forth. 

"The  first  aim  of  the  writer  is  to  show,  from  the 
brevity  of  the  interval  between  Marie's  disappear 
ance  and  the  finding  of  the  floating  corpse,  that  this 
corpse  cannot  be  that  of  Marie.  The  reduction  of 
this  interval  to  its  smallest  possible  dimension,  be 
comes  thus,  at  once,  an  object  with  the  reasoner. 


274        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

In  the  rash  pursuit  of  this  object,  he  rushes  into  mere 
assumption  at  the  outset.  'It  is  folly  to  suppose/  he 
says,  'that  the  murder,  if  murder  was  committed  on 
her  body,  could  have  been  consummated  soon  enough 
to  have  enabled  her  murderers  to  throw  the  body 
into  the  river  before  midnight.'  We  demand  at 
once,  and  very  naturally,  why?  Why  is  it  folly  to 
suppose  that  the  murder  was  committed  within  five 
minutes  after  the  girl's  quitting  her  mother's  house  ? 
Why  is  it  folly  to  suppose  that  the  murder  was  com 
mitted  at  any  given  period  of  the  day  ?  There  have 
been  assassinations  at  all  hours.  But,  had  the  mur 
der  taken  place  at  any  moment  between  nine  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  Sunday  and  a  quarter  before  mid 
night,  there  would  still  have  been  time  enough  'to 
throw  the  body  into  the  river  before  midnight/ 
This  assumption,  then,  amounts  precisely  to  this — 
that  the  murder  was  not  committed  on  Sunday  at  all 
— and,  if  we  allow  'L'Etoile'  to  assume  this,  we  may 
permit  it  any  liberties  whatever.  The  paragraph 
beginning  'It  is  folly  to  suppose  that  the  murder, 
etc./  however  it  appears  as  printed  in  'L'Etoile/  may 
be  imagined  to  have  existed  actually  thus  in  the 
brain  of  its  inditer:  'It  is  folly  to  suppose  that  the 
murder,  if  murder  was  committed  on  the  body,  could 
have  been  committed  soon  enough  to  have  enabled 
her  murderers  to  throw  the  body  into  the  river  be 
fore  midnight ;  it  is  folly,  we  say,  to  suppose  all  this, 
and  to  suppose  at  the  same  time  (as  we  are  resolved 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        275 

to  suppose),  that  the  body  was  not  thrown  in  until 
after  midnight' — a  sentence  sufficiently  inconsequen 
tial  in  itself,  but  not  so  utterly  preposterous  as  the 
one  printed. 

"Were  it  my  purpose,"  continued  Dupin,  "merely 
to  make  out  a  case  against  this  passage  of  'L'EtoileV 
argument,  I  might  safely  leave  it  where  it  is.  It  is 
not,  however,  with  'L'Etoile'  that  we  have  to  do,  but 
with  the  truth.  The  sentence  in  question  has  but 
one  meaning,  as  it  stands ;  and  this  meaning  I  have 
fairly  stated;  but  it  is  material  that  we  go  behind 
the  mere  words,  for  an  idea  which  these  words  have 
obviously  intended,  and  failed  to  convey.  It  was 
the  design  of  the  journalists  to  say  that  at  whatever 
period  of  the  day  or  night  of  Sunday  this  murder 
was  committed,  it  was  improbable  that  the  assassins 
would  have  ventured  to  bear  the  corpse  to  the  river 
before  midnight.  And  herein  lies,  really,  the  as 
sumption  of  which  I  complain.  It  is  assumed  that 
the  murder  was  committed  at  such  a  position,  and 
under  such  circumstances,  that  the  bearing  it  to  the 
river  became  necessary.  Now,  the  assassination 
might  have  taken  place  upon  the  river's  brink,  or  on 
the  river  itself ;  and,  thus,  the  throwing  the  corpse  in 
the  water  might  have  been  resorted  to  at  any  period 
of  the  day  or  night,  as  the  most  obvious  and  most 
immediate  mode  of  disposal.  You  will  understand 
that  I  suggest  nothing  here  as  probable,  or  as  co-in 
cident  with  my  opinion.  My  design,  so  far,  has  no 


276         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

reference  to  the  facts  of  the  case.  I  wish  merely 
to  caution  you  against  the  whole  tone  of  'L'Etoile's* 
suggestion,  by  calling  your  attention  to  its  ex-parte 
character  at  the  outset. 

"Having  prescribed  thus  a  limit  to  suit  its  own 
preconceived  notions;  having  assumed  that,  if  this 
were  the  body  of  Marie,  it  could  have  been  in  the 
water  but  a  very  brief  time,  the  journal  goes  on  to 
say: 

"  'All  experience  has  shown  that  drowned  bodies, 
or  bodies  thrown  into  the  water  immediately  after 
death  by  violence,  require  from  six  to  ten  days  for 
sufficient  decomposition  to  take  place  to  bring  them 
to  the  top  of  the  water.  Even  when  a  cannon  is 
fired  over  a  corpse,  and  it  rises  before  at  least  five  or 
six  days'  immersion,  it  sinks  again  if  let  alone/ 

"These  assertions  have  been  tacitly  received  by 
every  paper  in  Paris,  with  the  exception  of  'Le 
Moniteur.'*  This  latter  print  endeavors  to  combat 
that  portion  of  the  paragraph  which  has  reference  to 
'drowned  bodies'  only,  by  citing  some  five  or  six 
instances  in  which  the  bodies  of  individuals  known  to 
be  drowned  were  found  floating  after  the  lapse  of 
less  time  than  is  insisted  upon  by  'L'Etoile.'  But 
there  is  something  excessively  unphilosophical  in  the 
attempt,  on  the  part  of  'Le  Moniteur/  to  rebut  the 

*  The  New  York  "Commercial  Advertiser,"  edited  by  Colonel 
Stone. 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget       277 

general  assertion  of  'L'Etoile/  by  a  citation  of  par 
ticular  instances  militating  against  that  assertion. 
Had  it  been  possible  to  adduce  fifty  instead  of  five 
examples  of  bodies  found  floating  at  the  end  of  two 
or  three  days,  these  fifty  examples  could  still  have 
been  properly  regarded  only  as  exceptions  to 
'L'EtoileV  rule,  until  such  time  as  the  rule  itself 
should  be  confuted.  Admitting  the  rule  (and  this 
'Le  Moniteur5  does  not  deny,  insisting  merely  upon 
its  exceptions),  the  argument  of  'L'Etoile'  is  suffered 
to  remain  in  full  force;  for  this  argument  does  not 
pretend  to  involve  more  than  a  question  of  the 
probability  of  the  body  having  risen  to  the  surface 
in  less  than  three  days ;  and  this  probability  will  be  in 
favor  of  'L'EtoileV  position  until  the  instances  so 
childishly  adduced  shall  be  sufficient  in  number  to 
establish  an  antagonistical  rule. 

"You  will  see  at  once  that  all  argument  upon  this 
head  should  be  urged,  if  at  all,  against  the  rule  itself; 
and  for  this  end  we  must  examine  the  rationale  of 
the  rule.  Now  the  human  body,  in  general,  is 
neither  much  lighter  nor  much  heavier  than  the 
water  of  the  Seine ;  that  is  to  say,  the  specific  gravity 
of  the  human  body,  in  its  natural  condition,  is  about 
equal  to  the  bulk  of  fresh  water  which  it  displaces. 
The  bodies  of  fat  and  fleshy  persons,  with  small 
bones,  and  of  women  generally,  are  lighter  than 
those  of  the  lean  and  large-boned,  and  of  men ;  and 
the  specific  gravity  of  the  water  of  a  river  is  some- 


278        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

what  influenced  by  the  presence  of  the  tide  from  the 
sea.  But,  leaving  this  tide  out  of  the  question,  it 
may  be  said  that  very  few  human  bodies  will  sink  at 
all,  even  in  fresh  water,  of  their  own  accord.  Almost 
any  one,  falling  into  a  river,  will  be  enabled  to  float, 
if  he  suffer  the  specific  gravity  of  the  water  fairly 
to  be  adduced  in  comparison  with  his  own — that  is 
to  say,  if  he  suffer  his  whole  person  to  be  immersed, 
with  as  little  exception  as  possible.  The  proper  posi 
tion  for  one  who  can  not  swim  is  the  upright  position 
of  the  walker  on  land,  with  the  head  thrown  fully 
back,  and  immersed;  the  mouth  and  nostrils  alone 
remaining  about  the  surface.  Thus  circumstanced, 
we  shall  find  that  we  float  without  difficulty  and 
without  exertion.  It  is  evident,  however,  that  the 
gravities  of  the  body,  and  of  the  bulk  of  water  dis 
placed,  are  very  nicely  balanced,  and  that  a  trifle 
will  cause  either  to  preponderate.  An  arm,  for  in 
stance,  uplifted  from  the  water,  and  thus  deprived  of 
its  support,  is  an  additional  weight  sufficient  to  im 
merse  the  whole  head,  while  the  accidental  aid  of  the 
smallest  piece  of  timber  will  enable  us  to  elevate  the 
head  so  as  to  look  about.  Now,  in  the  struggles  of 
one  unused  to  swimming,  the  arms  are  invariably 
thrown  upward,  while  an  attempt  is  made  to  keep 
the  head  in  its  usual  perpendicular  position.  The  re 
sult  is  the  immersion  of  the  mouth  and  nostrils,  and 
the  inception,  during  efforts  to  breathe  while  beneath 
the  surface,  of  water  into  the  lungs.  Much  is  also 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        279 

received  into  the  stomach,  and  the  whole  body  be 
comes  heavier  by  the  difference  between  the  weight 
of  the  air  originally  distending  these  cavities,  and 
that  of  the  fluid  which  now  fills  them.  This  differ 
ence  is  sufficient  to  cause  the  body  to  sink,  as  a  gen 
eral  rule ;  but  is  insufficient  in  the  case  of  individuals 
with  small  bones  and  an  abnormal  quantity  of  flac 
cid  or  fatty  matter.  Such  individuals  float  even  af 
ter  drowning. 

"The  corpse,  being  supposed  at  the  bottom  of  the 
river,  will  there  remain  until,  by  some  means,  its 
specific  gravity  again  becomes  less  than  that  of  the 
bulk  of  water  which  it  displaces.  This  effect  is 
brought  about  by  decomposition,  or  otherwise.  The 
result  of  decomposition  is  the  generation  of  gas, 
distending  the  cellular  tissues  and  all  the  cavities, 
and  giving  the  puffed  appearance  which  is  so  horri 
ble.  When  this  distension  has  so  far  progressed  that 
the  bulk  of  the  corpse  is  materially  increased  without 
a  corresponding  increase  of  mass  or  weight,  its 
specific  gravity  becomes  less  than  that  of  the  water 
displaced,  and  it  forthwith  makes  its  appearance  at 
the  surface.  But  decomposition  is  modified  by  in 
numerable  circumstances — is  hastened  or  retarded  by 
innumerable  agencies;  for  example,  by  the  heat  or 
cold  of  the  season,  by  the  mineral  impregnation  or 
purity  of  the  water,  by  its  depth  or  shallowness,  by 
its  currency  or  stagnation,  by  the  temperament  of 
the  body,  by  its  infection  or  freedom  from  disease 


280        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

before  death.  Thus  it  is  evident  that  we  can  assign 
no  period,  with  anything  like  accuracy,  at  which  the 
corpse  shall  rise  through  decomposition.  Under  cer 
tain  conditions  this  result  would  be  brought  about 
within  an  hourt;  under  others  it  might  not  take  place 
at  all.  There  are  chemical  infusions  by  which  the 
animal  frame  can  be  preserved  forever  from  cor 
ruption;  the  bi-chloride  of  mercury  is  one.  But, 
apart  from  decomposition,  there  may  be,  and  very 
usually  is,  a  generation  of  gas  within  the  stomach, 
from  the  acetous  fermentation  of  vegetable  matter 
(or  within  other  cavities  from  other  causes),  suffi 
cient  to  induce  a  distension  which  will  bring  the 
body  to  the  surface.  The  effect  produced  by  the 
firing  of  a  cannon  is  that  of  simple  vibration.  This 
may  either  loosen  the  corpse  from  the  soft  mud  or 
ooze  in  which  it  is  imbedded,  thus  permitting  it  to 
rise  when  other  agencies  have  already  prepared  it 
for  so  doing;  or  it  may  overcome  the  tenacity  of 
some  putrescent  portions  of  the  cellular  tissue,  al 
lowing  the  cavities  to  distend  under  the  influence  of 
the  gas. 

"Having  thus  before  us  the  whole  philosophy  of 
this  subject,  we  can  easily  test  by  it  the  assertions  of 
'L'Etoile.'  'All  experience  shows/  says  this  paper, 
'that  drowned  bodies,  or  bodies  thrown  into  the 
water  immediately  after  death  by  violence,  require 
from  six  to  ten  days  for  sufficient  decomposition  to 
take  place  to  bring  them  to  the  top  of  the  water. 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        281 

Even  when  a  cannon  is  fired  over  a  corpse,  and  it 
rises  before  at  least  five  or  six  days'  immersion,  it 
sinks  again  if  let  alone.' 

"The  whole  of  this  paragraph  must  now  appear  a 
tissue  of  inconsequence  and  incoherence.  All  experi 
ence  does  not  show  that  'drowned  bodies'  require 
from  six  to  ten  days  for  sufficient  decomposition  to 
take  place  to  bring  them  to  the  surface.  Both 
science  and  experience  show  that  the  period  of  their 
rising  is,  and  necessarily  must  be,  indeterminate.  If, 
moreover,  a  body  has  risen  to  the  surface  through 
firing  of  cannon,  it  will  not  'sink  again  if  let  alone/ 
until  decomposition  has  so  far  progressed  as  to  per 
mit  the  escape  of  the  generated  gas.  But  I  wish  to 
call  your  attention  to  the  distinction  which  is  made 
between  'drowned  bodies,'  and  'bodies  thrown  into 
the  water  immediately  after  death  by  violence.'  Al 
though  the  writer  admits  the  distinction,  he  yet  in 
cludes  them  all  in  the  same  category.  I  have  shown 
how  it  is  that  the  body  of  a  drowning  man  becomes 
specifically  heavier  than  its  bulk  of  water,  and  that 
he  would  not  sink  at  all,  except  for  the  struggle  by 
which  he  elevates  his  arms  above  the  surface,  and  his 
gasps  for  breath  while  beneath  the  surface — gasps 
which  supply  by  water  the  place  of  the  original  air  in 
the  lungs.  But  these  struggles  and  these  gasps  would 
not  occur  in  the  body  'thrown  into  the  water  imme 
diately  after  death  by  violence/  Thus,  in  the  latter 
instance,  the  body,  as  a  general  rule,  would  not  sink 


282         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

at  all — a  fact  of  which  'L'Etoile'  is  evidently  igno 
rant.  When  decomposition  had  proceeded  to  a  very 
great  extent — when  the  flesh  had  in  a  great  measure 
left  the  bones — then,  indeed,  but  not  till  then,  should 
we  lose  sight  of  the  corpse. 

"And  now  what  are  we  to  make  of  the  argument, 
that  the  body  found  could  not  be  that  of  Marie 
Roget,  because,  three  days  only  having  elapsed,  this 
body  was  found  floating?  If  drowned,  being  a 
woman,  she  might  never  have  sunk ;  or,  having  sunk, 
might  have  re-appeared  in  twenty- four  hours  or  less. 
But  no  one  supposes  her  to  have  been  drowned ;  and, 
dying  before  being  thrown  into  the  river,  she  might 
have  been  found  floating  at  any  period  afterward 
whatever. 

"  'But/  says  'L'Etoile/  'if  the  body  had  been  kept 
in  its  mangled  state  on  shore  until  Tuesday  night, 
some  trace  would  be  found  on  shore  of  the  mur 
derers/  Here  it  is  at  first  difficult  to  perceive  the 
intention  of  the  reasoner.  He  means  to  antici 
pate  what  he  imagines  would  be  an  objection  to  his 
theory — viz. :  that  the  body  was  kept  on  shore  two 
days,  suffering  rapid  decomposition — more  rapid 
than  if  immersed  in  water.  He  supposes  that,  had 
this  been  the  case,  it  might  have  appeared  at  the  sur 
face  on  the  Wednesday,  and  thinks  that  only  under 
such  circumstances  it  could  have  so  appeared.  He  is 
accordingly  in  haste  to  show  that  it  was  not  kept  on 
shore;  for,  if  so,  'some  trace  would  be  found  on 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget       283 

shore  of  the  murderers.'  I  presume  you  smile  at  the 
sequltur.  You  can  not  be  made  to  see  how  the  mere 
duration  of  the  corpse  on  the  shore  could  operate  to 
multiply  traces  of  the  assassins.  Nor  can  I. 

"  'And  furthermore  it  is  exceedingly  improbable/ 
continues  our  journal,  'that  any  villains  who  had 
committed  such  a  murder  as  is  here  supposed,  would 
have  thrown  the  body  in  without  weight  to  sink  it, 
when  such  a  precaution  could  have  so  easily  been 
taken/  Observe,  here,  the  laughable  confusion  of 
thought !  No  one — not  even  'L'Etoile' — disputes  the 
murder  committed  on  the  body  found.  The  marks 
of  violence  are  too  obvious.  It  is  our  reasoner's  ob 
ject  merely  to  show  that  this  body  is  not  Marie's. 
He  wishes  to  prove  that  Marie  is  not  assassinated — 
not  that  the  corpse  was  not.  Yet  his  observation 
proves  only  the  latter  point.  Here  is  a  corpse  with 
out  weight  attached.  Murderers,  casting  it  in,  would 
not  have  failed  to  attach  a  weight.  Therefore  it  was 
not  thrown  in  by  murderers.  This  is  all  which  is 
proved,  if  any  thing  is.  The  question  of  identity  is 
not  even  approached,  and  'L'Etoile'  has  been  at  great 
pains  merely  to  gainsay  now  what  it  has  admitted 
only  a  moment  before.  'We  are  perfectly  convinced,' 
it  says,  'that  the  body  found  was  that  of  a  murdered 
female.' 

"Nor  is  this  the  sole  instance,  even  in  this  division 
of  his  subject,  where  our  reasoner  unwittingly  rea 
sons  against  himself.  His  evident  object,  I  have  al- 


284        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

ready  said,  is  to  reduce,  as  much  as  possible,  the  in 
terval  between  Marie's  disappearance  and  the  finding 
of  the  corpse.  Yet  we  find  him  urging  the  point  that 
no  person  saw  the  girl  from  the  moment  of  her  leav 
ing  her  mother's  house.  'We  have  no  evidence,'  he 
says,  'that  Marie  Roget  was  in  the  land  of  the  living 
after  nine  o'clock  on  Sunday,  June  the  twenty- 
second.'  As  his  argument  is  obviously  an  ex-parte 
one,  he  should,  at  least,  have  left  this  matter  out  of 
sight ;  for  had  any  one  been  known  to  see  Marie,  say 
on  Monday,  or  on  Tuesday,  the  interval  in  question 
would  have  been  much  reduced,  and,  by  his  own  ra 
tiocination,  the  probability  much  diminished  of  the 
corpse  being  that  of  the  grisette.  It  is,  nevertheless, 
amusing  to  observe  that  'L'Etoile'  insists  upon  its 
point  in  the  full  belief  of  its  furthering  its  general 
argument. 

"Re-peruse  now  that  portion  of  this  argument 
which  has  reference  to  the  identification  of  the  corpse 
by  Beauvais.  In  regard  to  the  hair  upon  the  arm, 
'L'Etoile'  has  been  obviously  disingenuous.  M.  Beau 
vais,  not  being  an  idiot,  could  never  have  urged  in 
identification  of  the  corpse,  simply  hair  upon  its  arm. 
No  arm  is  without  hair.  The  generality  of  the  ex 
pression  of  'L'Etoile'  is  a  mere  perversion  of  the  wit 
ness's  phraseology.  He  must  have  spoken  of  some 
peculiarity  in  this  hair.  It  must  have  been  a  pe 
culiarity  of  color,  of  quantity,  of  length,  or  of  situa 
tion. 


The  Mystery  of  «Marie  Roget        285 

"  'Her  foot/  says  the  journal,  'was  small' — so  are 
thousands  of  feet.  Her  garter  is  no  proof  whatever 
— nor  is  her  shoe — for  shoes  and  garters  are  sold  in 
packages.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  flowers  in 
her  hat.  One  thing  upon  which  M.  Beauvais 
strongly  insists  is,  that  the  clasp  on  the  garter  found 
had  been  set  back  to  take  it  in.  This  amounts  to 
nothing ;  for  most  women  find  it  proper  to  take  a  pair 
of  garters  home  and  fit  them  to  the  size  of  the  limbs 
they  are  to  encircle,  rather  than  to  try  them  in  the 
store  where  they  purchase/  Here  it  is  difficult  to 
suppose  the  reasoner  in  earnest.  Had  M.  Beauvais, 
in  his  search  for  the  body  of  Marie,  discovered  a 
corpse  corresponding  in  general  size  and  appearance 
to  the  missing  girl,  he  would  have  been  warranted 
(without  reference  to  the  question  of  habiliment  at 
all)  in  forming  an  opinion  that  his  search  had  been 
successful.  If,  in  addition  to  the  point  of  general 
size  and  contour,  he  had  found  upon  the  arm  a  pe 
culiar  hairy  appearance  which  he  had  observed  upon 
the  living  Marie,  his  opinion  might  have  been  justly 
strengthened ;  and  the  increase  of  positiveness  might 
well  have  been  in  the  ratio  of  the  peculiarity,  or  un- 
usualness,  of  the  hairy  mark.  If,  the  feet  of  Marie 
being  small,  those  of  the  corpse  were  also  small,  the 
increase  of  probability  that  the  body  was  that  of 
Marie  would  not  be  an  increase  in  a  ratio  merely 
arithmetical,  but  in  one  highly  geometrical,  or  accu 
mulative.  Add  to  all  this  shoes  such  as  she  had  been 


286        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

known  to  wear  upon  the  day  of  her  disappearance, 
and,  although  these  shoes  may  be  'sold  in  packages/ 
you  so  far  augment  the  probability  as  to  verge  upon 
the  certain.  What,  of  itself,  would  be  no  evidence  of 
identity,  becomes  through  its  corroborative  position, 
proof  most  sure.  Give  us,  then,  flowers  in  the  hat 
corresponding  to  those  worn  by  the  missing  girl,  and 
we  seek  for  nothing  further.  If  only  one  flower,  we 
seek  for  nothing  further — what  then  if  two  or  three, 
or  more?  Each  successive  one  is  multiple  evidence 
— proof  not  added  to  proof,  but  multiplied  by  hun 
dreds  or  thousands.  Let  us  now  discover,  upon  the 
deceased,  garters  such  as  the  living  used,  and  it  is 
almost  folly  to  proceed.  But  these  garters  are  found 
to  be  tightened,  by  the  setting  back  of  a  clasp,  in  just 
such  a  manner  as  her  own  had  been  tightened  by 
Marie  shortly  previous  to  her  leaving  home.  It  is 
now  madness  or  hypocrisy  to  doubt.  What  'L'Etoile* 
says  in  respect  to  this  abbreviation  of  the  garters  be 
ing  an  unusual  occurrence,  shows  nothing  beyond  its 
own  pertinacity  in  error.  The  elastic  nature  of  the 
clasp-garter  is  self -demonstration  of  the  unusualness 
of  the  abbreviation.  What  is  made  to  adjust  itself, 
must  of  necessity  require  foreign  adjustment  but 
rarely.  It  must  have  been  by  an  accident,  in  its 
strictest  sense,  that  these  garters  of  Marie  needed  the 
tightening  described.  They  alone  would  have  amply 
established  her  identity.  But  it  is  not  that  the  corpse 
was  found  to  have  the  garters  of  the  missing  girl, 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget       287 

or  found  to  have  her  shoes,  or  her  bonnet,  or  the 
flowers  of  her  bonnet,  or  her  feet,  or  a  peculiar  mark 
upon  the  arm,  or  her  general  size  and  appearance — 
it  is  that  the  corpse  had  each,  and  all  collectively. 
Could  it  be  proved  that  the  editor  of  'L'Etoile'  really 
entertained  a  doubt,  under  the  circumstances,  there 
would  be  no  need,  in  his  case,  of  a  commission  de 
lunatico  inquirendo.  He  has  thought  it  sagacious 
to  echo  the  small  talk  of  the  lawyers,  who,  for  the 
most  part,  content  themselves  with  echoing  the  rec 
tangular  precepts  of  the  courts.  I  would  here  ob 
serve  that  very  much  of  what  is  rejected  as  evidence 
by  a  court,  is  the  best  of  evidence  to  the  intellect. 
For  the  court,  guided  itself  by  the  general  principles 
of  evidence — the  recognized  and  booked  principles — 
is  averse  from  swerving  at  particular  instances.  And 
this  steadfast  adherence  to  principle,  with  rigorous 
disregard  of  the  conflicting  exception,  is  a  sure  mode 
of  attaining  the  maximum  of  attainable  truth,  in  any 
long  sequence  of  time.  The  practice,  in  mass,  is 
therefore  philosophical ;  but  it  is  not  the  less  certain 
that  it  engenders  vast  individual  error.* 

*  "A  theory  based  on  the  qualities  of  an  object,  will  prevent 
its  being  unfolded  according  to  its  objects;  and  he  who  ar 
ranges  topics  in  reference  to  their  causes,  will  cease  to  value 
them  according  to  their  results.  Thus  the  jurisprudence  of 
every  nation  will  show  that,  when  law  becomes  a  science  and 
a  system,  it  ceases  to  be  justice.  The  errors  into  which  a 
blind  devotion  to  principles  of  classification  has  led  the  com 
mon  law  will  be  seen  by  observing  how  often  the  legislature 
has  been  obliged  to  come  forward  to  restore  the  equity  its 
scheme  had  lost."— Lanctor. 


a88        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

"In  respect  to  the  insinuations  levelled  at  Beau- 
vais,  you  will  be  willing  to  dismiss  them  in  a  breath. 
You  have  already  fathomed  the  true  character  of 
this  good  gentleman.  He  is  a  busybody,  with  much 
of  romance  and  little  of  wit.  Any  one  so  constituted 
will  readily  so  conduct  himself,  upon  occasion  of 
real  excitement,  as  to  render  himself  liable  to  suspi 
cion  on  the  part  of  the  over-acute,  or  the  ill-disposed. 
M.  Beauvais  (as  it  appears  from  your  notes)  had 
some  personal  interviews  with  the  editor  of  'L'Etoile' 
and  offended  him  by  venturing  an  opinion  that  the 
corpse,  notwithstanding  the  theory  of  the  editor, 
was,  in  sober  fact,  that  of  Marie.  'He  persists,'  says 
the  paper,  'in  asserting  the  corpse  to  be  that  of 
Marie,  but  can  not  give  a  circumstance,  in  addition 
to  those  which  we  have  commented  upon,  to  make 
others  believe/  Now,  without  re-adverting  to  the 
fact  that  stronger  evidence  'to  make  others  believe/ 
could  never  have  been  adduced,  it  may  be  remarked 
that  a  man  may  very  well  be  understood  to  believe, 
in  a  case  of  this  kind,  without  the  ability  to  advance 
a  single  reason  for  the  belief  of  a  second  party. 
Nothing  is  more  vague  than  impressions  of  individ 
ual  identity.  Each  man  recognizes  his  neighbor,  yet 
there  are  few  instances  in  which  any  one  is  prepared 
to  give  a  reason  for  his  recognition.  The  editor 
of  'L'Etoile'  had  no  right  to  be  offended  at  M.  Beau- 
vais's  unreasoning  belief. 

"The  suspicious  circumstances  which  invest  him, 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        289 

will  be  found  to  tally  much  better  with  my  hypothe 
sis  of  romantic  busybodyism,  than  with  the  reason- 
er's  suggestion  of  guilt.  Once  adopting  the  more 
charitable  interpretation,  we  shall  find  no  difficulty 
in  comprehending  the  rose  in  the  key-hole;  the 
'Marie'  upon  the  slate;  the  'elbowing  the  male  rela 
tives  out  of  the  way';  the  'aversion  to  permitting 
them  to  see  the  body' ;  the  caution  given  to  Madame 

B ,  that  she  must  hold  no  conversation  with  the 

gendarme  until  his  (Beauvais')  return;  and,  lastly, 
his  apparent  determination  'that  nobody  should  have 
anything  to  do  with  the  proceedings  except  himself.' 
It  seems  to  me  unquestionable  that  Beauvais  was  a 
suitor  of  Marie's;  that  she  coquetted  with  him;  and 
that  he  was  ambitious  of  being  thought  to  enjoy  her 
fullest  intimacy  and  confidence.  I  shall  say  nothing 
more  upon  this  point;  and,  as  the  evidence  fully  re 
buts  the  assertion  of  'L'Etoile,'  touching  the  matter 
of  apathy  on  the  part  of  the  mother  and  other  rela 
tives — an  apathy  inconsistent  with  the  supposition 
of  their  believing  the  corpse  to  be  that  of  the  per 
fumery  girl — we  shall  now  proceed  as  if  the  question 
of  identity  were  settled  to  our  perfect  satisfaction." 

"And  what,"  I  here  demanded,  "do  you  think  of 
the  opinions  of  'Le  Commerciel  ?' ' 

"That,  in  spirit,  they  are  far  more  worthy  of  at 
tention  than  any  which  have  been  promulgated  upon 
the  subject.  The  deductions  from  the  premises  are 
philosophical  and  acute ;  but  the  premises,  in  two  in- 


I— Poe-13 


290        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

stances,  at  least,  are  founded  in  imperfect  observa 
tion.  'Le  Commerciel'  wishes  to  intimate  that  Marie 
was  seized  by  some  gang  of  low  ruffians  not  far  from 
her  mother's  door.  'It  is  impossible/  it  urges,  'that 
a  person  so  well  known  to  thousands  as  this  young 
woman  was,  should  have  passed  three  blocks  without 
some  one  having  seen  her/  This  is  the  idea  of  a 
man  long  resident  in  Paris — a  public  man — and  one 
whose  walks  to  and  fro  in  the  city  have  been  mostly 
limited  to  the  vicinity  of  the  public  offices.  He  is 
aware  that  he  seldom  passes  so  far  as  a  dozen  blocks 
from  his  own  bureau,  without  being  recognized  and 
accosted.  And,  knowing  the  extent  of  his  personal 
acquaintance  with  others,  and  of  others  with  him,  he 
compares  his  notoriety  with  that  of  the  perfumery- 
girl,  finds  no  great  difference  between  them,  and 
reaches  at  once  the  conclusion  that  she,  in  her  walks, 
would  be  equally  liable  to  recognition  with  himself 
in  his.  This  could  only  be  the  case  were  her  walks 
of  the  same  unvarying,  methodical  character,  and 
within  the  same  species  of  limited  region  as  are  his 
own.  He  passes  to  and  fro,  at  regular  intervals, 
within  a  confined  periphery,  abounding  in  individ 
uals  who  are  led  to  observation  of  his  person  through 
interest  in  the  kindred  nature  of  his  occupation  with 
their  own.  But  the  walks  of  Marie  may,  in  general, 
be  supposed  discursive.  In  this  particular  instance, 
it  will  be  understood  as  most  probable,  that  she  pro 
ceeded  upon  a  route  of  more  than  average  diversity 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        291 

from  her  accustomed  ones.  The  parallel  which  we 
imagine  to  have  existed  in  the  mind  of  *Le  Commer- 
ciel'  would  only  be  sustained  in  the  event  of  the  two 
individuals  traversing  the  whole  city.  In  this  case, 
granting  the  personal  acquaintance  to  be  equal,  the 
chances  would  be  also  equal  that  an  equal  number  of 
personal  rencountres  would  be  made.  For  my  own 
part,  I  should  hold  it  not  only  as  possible,  but  as  far 
more  than  probable,  that  Marie  might  have  pro 
ceeded,  at  any  given  period,  by  any  one  of  the  many 
routes  between  her  own  residence  and  that  of  her 
aunt,  without  meeting  a  single  individual  whom  she 
knew,  or  by  whom  she  was  known.  In  viewing  this 
question  in  its  full  and  proper  light,  we  must  hold 
steadily  in  mind  the  great  disproportion  between  the 
personal  acquaintances  of  even  the  most  noted  indi 
vidual  in  Paris,  and  the  entire  population  of  Paris 
itself. 

"But  whatever  force  there  may  still  appear  to  be 
in  the  suggestion  of  'Le  Commerciel/  will  be  much 
diminished  when  we  take  into  consideration  the  hour 
at  which  the  girl  went  abroad.  'It  was  when  the 
streets  were  full  of  people/  says  'Le  Commerciel/ 
'that  she  went  out/  But  not  so.  It  was  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  Now  at  nine  o'clock  of 
every  morning  in  the  week,  with  the  exception  of 
Sunday,  the  streets  of  the  city  are,  it  is  true,  thronged 
with  people.  At  nine  on  Sunday,  the  populace  are 
chiefly  within  doors  preparing  for  church.  No  ob- 


292        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

serving  person  can  have  failed  to  notice  the  pe 
culiarly  deserted  air  of  the  town,  from  about  eight 
until  ten  on  the  morning  of  every  Sabbath.  Between 
ten  and  eleven  the  streets  are  thronged,  but  not  at  so 
early  a  period  as  that  designated. 

"There  is  another  point  at  which  there  seems  a  de 
ficiency  of  observation  on  the  part  of  'Le  Commer- 
ciel/  'A  piece/  it  says,  'of  one  of  the  unfortunate 
girl's  petticoats,  two  feet  long,  and  one  foot  wide, 
was  torn  out  and  tied  under  her  chin,  and  around  the 
back  of  her  head,  probably  to  prevent  screams.  This 
was  done  by  fellows  who  had  no  pocket-handker 
chiefs/  Whether  this  idea  is  or  is  not  well  founded, 
we  will  endeavor  to  see  hereafter;  but  by  'fellows 
who  have  no  pocket-handkerchiefs/  the  editor  in 
tends  the  lowest  class  of  ruffians.  These,  however, 
are  the  very  description  of  people  who  will  always  be 
found  to  have  handkerchiefs  even  when  destitute 
of  shirts.  You  must  have  had  occasion  to  observe 
how  absolutely  indispensable,  of  late  years,  to  the 
thorough  blackguard,  has  become  the  pocket-hand 
kerchief." 

"And  what  are  we  to  think,"  I  asked,  "of  the  arti 
cle  in  'Le  Soleil ?'" 

"That  it  is  a  vast  pity  its  inditer  was  not  born  a 
parrot — in  which  case  he  would  have  been  the  most 
illustrious  parrot  of  his  race.  He  has  merely  re 
peated  the  individual  items  of  the  already  published 
opinion*;  collecting  them,  with  a  laudable  industry, 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        293 

from  this  paper  and  from  that.  The  things  had  all 
evidently  been  there/  he  says,  'at  least  three  or  four 
weeks,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  spot  of 
this  appalling  outrage  has  been  discovered.'  The 
facts  here  re-stated  by  'Le  Soleil'  are  very  far  in 
deed  from  removing  my  own  doubts  upon  this  sub 
ject,  and  we  will  examine  them  more  particularly 
hereafter  in  connection  with  another  division  of  the 
theme. 

"At  present  we  must  occupy  ourselves  with  other 
investigations.  You  can  not  have  failed  to  remark 
the  extreme  laxity  of  the  examination  of  the  corpse. 
To  be  sure,  the  question  of  identity  was  readily  de 
termined,  or  should  have  been ;  but  there  were  other 
points  to  be  ascertained.  Had  the  body  been  in  any 
respect  despoiled?  Had  the  deceased  any  articles  of 
jewelry  about  her  person  upon  leaving  home?  If  so, 
had  she  any  when  found?  These  are  important 
questions  utterly  untouched  by  the  evidence;  and 
there  are  others  of  equal  moment,  which  have  met 
with  no  attention.  We  must  endeavor  to  satisfy 
ourselves  by  personal  inquiry.  The  case  of  St.  Eu- 
stache  must  be  re-examined.  I  have  no  suspicion  of 
this  person;  but  let  us  proceed  methodically.  We 
will  ascertain  beyond  a  doubt  the  validity  of  the 
affidavits  in  regard  to  his  whereabout  on  the  Sun 
day.  Affidavits  of  this  character  are  readily  made 
matter  of  mystification.  Should  there  be  nothing 
wrong  here,  however,  we  will  dismiss  St.  Eustache 


294        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

from  our  investigations.  His  suicide,  however  cor 
roborative  of  suspicion,  were  there  found  to  be  de 
ceit  in  the  affidavits,  is,  without  such  deceit,  in  no 
respect  an  unaccountable  circumstance,  or  one  which 
need  cause  us  to  deflect  from  the  line  of  ordinary 
analysis. 

"In  that  which  I  now  propose,  we  will  discard  the 
interior  points  of  this  tragedy,  and  concentrate  our 
attention  upon  its  outskirts.  Not  the  least  usual 
error  in  investigations  such  as  this  is  the  limiting  of 
inquiry  to  the  immediate,  with  total  disregard  of  the 
collateral  or  circumstantial  events.  It  is  the  mal 
practice  of  the  courts  to  confine  evidence  and  discus 
sion  to  the  bounds  of  apparent  relevancy.  Yet  ex 
perience  has  shown,  and  a  true  philosophy  will  al 
ways  show,  that  a  vast,  perhaps  the  larger,  portion  of 
truth  arises  from  the  seemingly  irrelevant.  It  is 
through  the  spirit  of  this  principle,  if  not  precisely 
through  its  letter,  that  modern  science  has  resolved 
to  calculate  upon  the  unforeseen.  But  perhaps  you 
do  not  comprehend  me.  The  history  of  human 
knowledge  has  so  uninterruptedly  shown  that  to  col 
lateral,  or  incidental,  or  accidental  events  we  are  in 
debted  for  the  most  numerous  and  most  valuable  dis 
coveries,  that  it  has  at  length  become  necessary,  in 
prospective  view  of  improvement,  to  make  not  only 
large,  but  the  largest,  allowances  for  inventions  that 
shall  arise  by  chance,  and  quite  out  of  the  range  of 
ordinary  expectation.  It  is  no  longer  philosophical 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        295 

to  base  upon  what  has  been  a  vision  of  what  is  to  be. 
Accident  is  admitted  as  a  portion  of  the  substructure. 
We  make  chance  a  matter  of  absolute  calculation. 
We  subject  the  unlocked  for  and  unimagined  to  the 
mathematical  formulae  of  the  schools. 

"I  repeat  that  it  is  no  more  than  fact  that  the 
larger  portion  of  all  truth  has  sprung  from  the  col 
lateral;  and  it  is  but  in  accordance  with  the  spirit 
of  the  principle  involved  in  this  fact  that  I  would 
divert  inquiry,  in  the  present  case,  from  the  trodden 
and  hitherto  unfruitful  ground  of  the  event  itself  to 
the  contemporary  circumstances  which  surround  it. 
While  you  ascertain  the  validity  of  the  affidavits,  I 
will  examine  the  newspapers  more  generally  than 
you  have  as  yet  done.  So  far,  we  have  only  recon 
noitred  the  field  of  investigation;  but  it  will  be 
strange,  indeed,  if  a  comprehensive  survey,  such  as 
I  propose,  of  the  public  prints  will  not  afford  us  some 
minute  points  which  shall  establish  a  direction  for  in 
quiry." 

In  pursuance  of  Dupin's  suggestion,  I  made  scru 
pulous  examination  of  the  affair  of  the  affidavits. 
The  result  was  a  firm  conviction  of  their  validity, 
and  of  the  consequent  innocence  of  St.  Eustache.  In 
the  meantime  my  friend  occupied  himself,  with  what 
seemed  to  me  a  minuteness  altogether  objectless,  in 
a  scrutiny  of  the  various  newspaper  files.  At  the  end 
of  a  week  he  placed  before  me  the  following  ex 
tracts  : 


296         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

"About  three  years  and  a  half  ago,  a  disturbance 
very  similar  to  the  present  was  caused  by  the  disap 
pearance  of  this  same  Marie  Roget  from  the  par- 
fumerie  of  Monsieur  Le  Blanc,  in  the  Palais  Royal. 
At  the  end  of  a  week,  however,  she  re-appeared  at 
her  customary  comptoir,  as  well  as  ever,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  a  slight  paleness  not  altogether  usual.  It 
was  given  out  by  Monsieur  Le  Blanc  and  her  mother 
that  she  had  merely  been  on  a  visit  to  some  friend  in 
the  country;  and  the  affair  was  speedily  hushed  up. 
We  presume  that  the  present  absence  is  a  freak  of  the 
same  nature,  and  that,  at  the  expiration  of  a  week  or, 
perhaps,  of  a  month,  we  shall  have  her  among  us 
again." — Evening  Paper,  Monday,  June  23.* 

"An  evening  journal  of  yesterday  refers  to  a  for 
mer  mysterious  disappearance  of  Mademoiselle  Ro 
get.  It  is  well  known  that,  during  the  week  of  her 
absence  from  Le  Blanc's  parfumerie,  she  was  in  the 
company  of  a  young  naval  officer  much  noted  for  his 
debaucheries.  A  quarrel,  it  is  supposed,  providen 
tially,  led  to  her  return  home.  We  have  the  name  of 
the  Lothario  in  question,  who  is  at  present  stationed 
in  Paris,  but  for  obvious  reasons  forbear  to  make  it 
public." — "Le  Mercuric,"  Tuesday  Morning,  June 

24.  t 

"An  outrage  of  the  most  atrocious  character  was 
perpetrated  near  this  city  the  day  before  yesterday. 
A  gentleman,  with  his  wife  and  daughter,  engaged, 
*  New  York  "Express."  t  New  York  "Herald." 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        297 

about  dusk,  the  services  of  six  young  men,  who  were 
idly  rowing  a  boat  to  and  fro  near  the  banks  of  the 
Seine,  to  convey  him  across  the  river.  Upon  reach 
ing  the  opposite  shore  the  three  passengers  stepped 
out,  and  had  proceeded  so  far  as  to  be  beyond  the 
view  of  the  boat,  when  the  daughter  discovered  that 
she  had  left  in  it  her  parasol.  She  returned  for  it, 
was  seized  by  the  gang,  carried  out  into  the  stream, 
gagged,  brutally  treated,  and  finally  taken  to  the 
shore  at  a  point  not  far  from  that  at  which  she  had 
originally  entered  the  boat  with  her  parents.  The 
villains  have  escaped  for  the  time,  but  the  police  are 
upon  their  trail,  and  some  of  them  will  soon  be 
taken." — Morning  Paper,  June  25.* 

"We  have  received  one  or  two  communications, 
the  object  of  which  is  to  fasten  the  crime  of  the  late 
atrocity  upon  Mennaisf;  but  as  this  gentleman  has 
been  fully  exonerated  by  a  legal  inquiry,  and  as  the 
arguments  of  our  several  correspondents  appear  to  be 
more  zealous  than  profound,  we  do  not  think  it  ad 
visable  to  make  them  public." — Morning  Paper, 
June  284 

"We  have  received  several  forcibly  written  com 
munications,  apparently  from  various  sources,  and 
which  go  far  to  render  it  a  matter  of  certainty  that 
the  unfortunate  Marie  Roget  has  become  a  victim  of 

*  New  York  "Courier  and  Inquirer." 

f  Mennais  was  one  of  the  parties  originally  suspected  and 
arrested,  but  discharged  through  total  lack  of  evidence. 
\  New  York  "Courier  and  Inquirer." 


298         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

one  of  the  numerous  bands  of  blackguards  which  in 
fest  the  vicinity  of  the  city  upon  Sunday.  Our  own 
opinion  is  decidedly  in  favor  of  this  supposition.  We 
shall  endeavor  to  make  room  for  some  of  these 
arguments  hereafter." — Evening  Paper,  Tuesday, 
June  3 1.* 

"On  Monday,  one  of  the  bargemen  connected  with 
the  revenue  service  saw  an  empty  boat  floating  down 
the  Seine.  Sails  were  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the 
boat.  The  bargeman  towed  it  under  the  barge  office. 
The  next  morning  it  was  taken  from  thence  without 
the  knowledge  of  any  of  the  officers.  The  rudder  is 
now  at  the  barge  office." — 'Le  Diligence/  Thursday, 
June  26.  f 

Upon  reading  these  various  extracts,  they  not  only 
seemed  to  me  irrelevant,  but  I  could  perceive  no 
mode  in  which  any  one  of  them  could  be  brought 
to  bear  upon  the  matter  in  hand.  I  waited  for  some 
explanation  from  Dupin. 

"It  is  not  my  present  design,"  he  said,  "to  dwell 
upon  the  first  and  second  of  these  extracts.  I  have 
copied  them  chiefly  to  show  you  the  extreme  remiss- 
ness  of  the  police,  who,  as  far  as  I  can  understand 
from  the  Prefect,  have  not  troubled  themselves,  in 
any  respect,  with  an  examination  of  the  naval  officer 
alluded  to.  Yet  it  is  mere  folly  to  say  that  between 
the  first  and  second  disappearance  of  Marie  there  is 
no  supposable  connection.  Let  us  admit  the  first 

*  New  York  "Evening  Post"       f  New  York  "Standard." 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        299 

elopement  to  have  resulted  in  a  quarrel  between  the 
lovers,  and  the  return  home  of  the  betrayed.  We  are 
now  prepared  to  view  a  second  elopement  (if  we 
know  that  an  elopement  has  again  taken  place)  as 
indicating  a  renewal  of  the  betrayer's  advances, 
rather  than  as  the  result  of  new  proposals  by  a  sec 
ond  individual — we  are  prepared  to  regard  it  as  a 
'making  up'  of  the  old  amour,  rather  than  as  the 
commencement  of  a  new  one.  The  chances  are  ten 
to  one  that  he  who  had  once  eloped  with  Marie 
would  again  propose  an  elopement,  rather  than  that 
she  to  whom  proposals  of  an  elopement  had  been 
made  by  one  individual  should  have  them  made  to 
her  by  another.  And  here  let  me  call  your  attention 
to  the  fact,  that  the  time  elapsing  between  the  first 
ascertained  and  the  second  supposed  elopement  is  a 
few  months  more  than  the  general  period  of  the 
cruises  of  our  men-of-war.  Had  the  lover  been  in 
terrupted  in  his  first  villany  by  the  necessity  of  de 
parture  to  sea,  and  had  he  seized  the  first  moment  of 
his  return  to  renew  the  base  designs  not  yet  alto 
gether  accomplished — or  not  yet  altogether  accom 
plished  by  him?  Of  all  these  things  we  know  noth 
ing. 

"You  will  say,  however,  that,  in  the  second  in 
stance,  there  was  no  elopement  as  imagined.  Cer 
tainly  not — but  are  we  prepared  to  say  that  there  was 
not  the  frustrated  design?  Beyond  St.  Eustache, 
and  perhaps  Beauvais,  we  find  no  recognized,  no 


300        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

open,  no  honorable  suitors  of  Marie.  Of  none  other 
is  there  anything  said.  Who,  then,  is  the  secret 
lover,  of  whom  the  relatives  (at  least  most  of  them) 
know  nothing,  but  whom  Marie  meets  upon  the 
morning  of  Sunday,  and  who  is  so  deeply  in  her 
confidence  that  she  hesitates  not  to  remain  with  him 
until  the  shades  of  the  evening  descend,  amid  the 
solitary  groves  of  the  Barriere  du  Roule?  Who  is 
that  secret  lover,  I  ask,  of  whom,  at  least,  most  of 
the  relatives  know  nothing?  And  what  means  the 
singular  prophecy  of  Madame  Roget  on  the  morning 
of  Marie's  departure  ? — 'I  fear  that  I  shall  never  see 
Marie  again/ 

"But  if  we  can  not  imagine  Madame  Roget  privy 
to  the  design  of  elopement,  may  we  not  at  least  sup 
pose  this  design  entertained  by  the  girl  ?  Upon  quit 
ting  home,  she  gave  it  to  be  understood  that  she  was 
about  to  visit  her  aunt  in  the  Rue  des  Dromes,  and 
St.  Eustache  was  requested  to  call  for  her  at  dark 
Now,  at  first  glance,  this  fact  strongly  militates 
against  my  suggestion — but  let  us  reflect.  That  she 
did  meet  some  companion,  and  proceed  with  him 
across  the  river,  reaching  the  Barriere  du  Roule  at  so 
late  an  hour  as  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  is 
known.  But  in  consenting  so  to  accompany  this  in 
dividual  (for  whatever  purpose — to  her  mother 
known  or  unknown),  she  must  have  thought  of  her 
expressed  intention  when  leaving  home,  and  of  the 
surprise  and  suspicion  aroused  in  the  bosom  of  her 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget       301 

affianced  suitor,  St.  Eustache,  when,  calling  for  her, 
at  the  hour  appointed,  in  the  Rue  des  Dromes,  he 
should  find  that  she  had  not  been  there,  and  when, 
moreover,  upon  returning  to  the  pension  with  this 
'alarming  intelligence,  he  should  become  aware  of  her 
continued  absence  from  home.  She  must  have 
thought  of  these  things,  I  say.  She  must  have  fore 
seen  the  chagrin  of  St.  Eustache,  the  suspicion  of  all. 
She  could  not  have  thought  of  returning  to  brave 
this  suspicion;  but  the  suspicion  becomes  a  point  of 
trivial  importance  to  her,  if  we  suppose  her  not  in 
tending  to  return. 

"We  may  imagine  her  thinking  thus — 'I  am  to 
meet  a  certain  person  for  the  purpose  of  elopement, 
or  for  certain  other  purposes  known  only  to  myself. 
It  is  necessary  that  there  be  no  chance  of  interruption 
— there  must  be  sufficient  time  given  us  to  elude  pur 
suit — I  will  give  it  to  be  understood  that  I  shall  visit 
and  spend  the  day  with  my  aunt  at  the  Rue  des 
Dromes — I  will  tell  St.  Eustache  not  to  call  for  me 
until  dark — in  this  way,  my  absence  from  home  for 
the  longest  possible  period,  without  causing  sus 
picion  or  anxiety,  will  be  accounted  for,  and  I  shall 
gain  more  time  than  in  any  other  manner.  If  I  bid 
St.  Eustache  call  for  me  at  dark,  he  will  be  sure  not 
to  call  before ;  but  if  I  wholly  neglect  to  bid  him  call, 
my  time  for  escape  will  be  diminished,  since  it  will  be 
expected  that  I  return  the  earlier,  and  my  absence 
will  the  sooner  excite  anxiety.  Now,  if  it  were  my 


302         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

design  to  return  at  all — if  I  had  in  contemplation 
merely  a  stroll  with  the  individual  in  question — it 
would  not  be  my  policy  to  bid  St.  Eustache  call ;  for 
calling,  he  will  be  sure  to  ascertain  that  I  have  played 
him  false — a  fact  of  which  I  might  keep  him  forever 
in  ignorance,  by  leaving  home  without  notifying  him 
of  my  intention,  by  returning  before  dark,  and  by 
then  stating  that  I  had  been  to  visit  my  aunt  in  the 
Rue  des  Dromes.  But,  as  it  is  my  design  never  to 
return — or  not  for  some  weeks — or  not  until  certain 
concealments  are  effected — the  gaining  of  time  is 
the  only  point  about  which  I  need  give  myself  any 
concern. 

"You  have  observed,  in  your  notes,  that  the  most 
general  opinion  in  relation  to  this  sad  affair  is,  and 
was  from  the  first,  that  the  girl  had  been  the  victim 
of  a  gang  of  blackguards.  Now,  the  popular  opin 
ion,  under  certain  conditions,  is  not  to  be  disregarded. 
When  arising  of  itself — when  manifesting  itself  in  a 
strictly  spontaneous  manner — we  should  look  upon 
it  as  analogous  with  that  intuition  which  is  the  idio 
syncrasy  of  the  individual  man  of  genius.  In  ninety- 
nine  cases  from  the  hundred  I  would  abide  by  its  de 
cision.  But  it  is  important  that  we  find  no  palpable 
traces  of  suggestion.  The  opinion  must  be  rigor 
ously  the  public's  own;  and  the  distinction  is  often 
exceedingly  difficult  to  perceive  and  to  maintain.  In 
the  present  instance,  it  appears  to  me  that  this  'public 
opinion/  in  respect  to  a  gang,  has  been  superinduced 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        303 

by  the  collateral  event  which  is  detailed  in  the  third 
of  my  extracts.  All  Paris  is  excited  by  the  discov 
ered  corpse  of  Marie,  a  girl  young,  beautiful,  and 
notorious.  This  corpse  is  found,  bearing  marks  of 
violence,  and  floating  in  the  river.  But  it  is  now 
made  known  that,  at  the  very  period,  or  about  the 
very  period,  in  which  it  is  supposed  that  the  girl  was 
assassinated,  an  outrage  similar  in  nature  to  that  en 
dured  by  the  deceased,  although  less  in  extent,  was 
perpetrated  by  a  gang  of  young  ruffians,  upon  the 
person  of  a  second  young  female.  Is  it  wonderful 
that  the  one  known  atrocity  should  influence  the 
popular  judgment  in  regard  to  the  other  unknown? 
This  judgment  awaited  direction,  and  the  known 
outrage  seemed  so  opportunely  to  afford  it!  Marie, 
too,  was  found  in  the  river ;  and  upon  this  very  river 
was  this  known  outrage  committed.  The  connection 
of  the  two  events  had  about  it  so  much  of  the  pal 
pable,  that  the  true  wonder  would  have  been  a  fail 
ure  of  the  populace  to  appreciate  and  to  seize  it. 
But,  in  fact,  the  one  atrocity,  known  to  be  so  com 
mitted,  is,  if  anything,  evidence  that  the  other, 
committed  at  a  time  nearly  coincident,  was  not 
so  committed.  It  would  have  been  a  miracle  if, 
while  a  gang  of  ruffians  were  perpetrating,  at  a  given 
locality,  a  most  unheard  of  wrong,  there  should  have 
been  another  similar  gang,  in  a  similar  locality,  in 
the  same  city,  under  the  same  circumstances,  with 
the  same  means  and  appliances,  engaged  in  a  wrong 


304        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

of  precisely  the  same  aspect,  at  precisely  the  same 
period  of  time !  Yet  in  what,  if  not  in  this  marvel 
lous  train  of  coincidence,  does  the  accidentally  sug 
gested  opinion  of  the  populace  call  upon  us  to  be 
lieve  ? 

"Before  proceeding  further,  let  us  consider  the 
supposed  scene  of  the  assassination,  in  the  thicket  at 
the  Barriere  du  Roule.  This  thicket,  although  dense, 
was  in  the  close  vicinity  of  a  public  road.  Within 
were  three  or  four  large  stones,  forming  a  kind  of 
seat  with  a  back  and  a  footstool.  On  the  upper 
stone  was  discovered  a  white  petticoat;  on  the  sec 
ond,  a  silk  scarf.  A  parasol,  gloves,  and  a  pocket- 
handkerchief  were  also  here  found.  The  handker 
chief  bore  the  name  'Marie  Roget.'  Fragments  of 
dress  were  seen  on  the  branches  around.  The  earth 
was  trampled,  the  bushes  were  broken,  and  there  was 
every  evidence  of  a  violent  struggle. 

"Notwithstanding  the  acclamation  with  which  the 
discovery  of  this  thicket  was  received  by  the  press, 
and  the  unanimity  with  which  it  was  supposed  to  in 
dicate  the  precise  scene  of  the  outrage,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  there  was  some  very  good  reason  for 
doubt.  That  it  was  the  scene,  I  may  or  I  may  not 
believe — but  there  was  excellent  reason  for  doubt. 
Had  the  true  scene  been,  as  'Le  Commercier  sug 
gested,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Rue  Pavee  St. 
Andree,  the  perpetrators  of  the  crime,  supposing 
them  still  resident  in  Paris,  would  naturally  have 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget       305 

been  stricken  with  terror  at  the  public  attention  thus 
acutely  directed  into  the  proper  channel ;  and,  in  cer 
tain  classes  of  minds,  there  would  have  arisen,  at 
once,  a  sense  of  the  necessity  of  some  exertion  to 
redivert  this  attention.  And  thus,  the  thicket  of  the 
Barriere  du  Roule  having  been  already  suspected,  the 
idea  of  placing  the  articles  where  they  were  found, 
might  have  been  naturally  entertained.  There  is  no 
real  evidence,  although  'Le  Soleil'  so  supposes,  that 
the  articles  discovered  had  been  more  than  a  very 
few  days  in  the  thicket ;  while  there  is  much  circum 
stantial  proof  that  they  could  not  have  remained 
there,  without  attracting  attention,  during  the  twenty 
days  elapsing  between  the  fatal  Sunday  and  the  af 
ternoon  upon  which  they  were  found  by  the  boys. 
'They  were  all  mildewed  down  hard/  says  'Le 
Soleil/  adopting  the  opinions  of  its  predecessors, 
'with  the  action  of  the  rain  and  stuck  together  from 
mildew.  The  grass  had  grown  around  and  over 
some  of  them.  The  silk  of  the  parasol  was  strong, 
but  the  threads  of  it  were  run  together  within.  The 
upper  part,  where  it  had  been  doubled  and  folded, 
was  all  mildewed  and  rotten,  and  tore  on  being 
opened/  In  respect  to  the  grass  having  'grown 
around  and  over  some  of  them/  it  is  obvious  that  the 
fact  could  only  have  been  ascertained  from  the 
words,  and  thus  from  the  recollections,  of  two  small 
boys;  for  these  boys  removed  the  articles  and  took 
them  home  before  they  had  been  seen  by  a  third 


306        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

party.  But  the  grass  will  grow,  especially  in  warm 
and  damp  weather  (such  as  was  that  of  the  period 
of  the  murder),  as  much  as  two  or  three  inches  in  a 
single  day.  A  parasol  lying  upon  a  newly  turfed 
ground,  might,  in  a  single  week,  be  entirely  con 
cealed  from  sight  by  the  upspringing  grass.  And 
touching  that  mildew  upon  which  the  editor  of  'Le 
Soleir  so  pertinaciously  insists,  that  he  employs  the 
word  no  less  than  three  times  in  the  brief  paragraph 
just  quoted,  is  he  really  unaware  of  the  nature  of  this 
mildew  ?  Is  he  to  be  told  that  it  is  one  of  the  many 
classes  of  fungus,  of  which  the  most  ordinary  feat 
ure  is  its  upspringing  and  decadence  within  twenty- 
four  hours  ? 

"Thus  we  see,  at  a  glance,  that  what  has  been 
most  triumphantly  adduced  in  support  of  the  idea 
that  the  articles  had  been  'for  at  least  three  or  four 
weeks'  in  the  thicket,  is  most  absurdly  null  as  regards 
any  evidence  of  that  fact.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  ex 
ceedingly  difficult  to  believe  that  these  articles  could 
have  remained  in  the  thicket  specified  for  a  longer 
period  than  a  single  week — for  a  longer  period  than 
from  one  Sunday  to  the  next.  Those  who  know 
anything  of  the  vicinity  of  Paris  know  the  extreme 
difficulty  of  finding  seclusion,  unless  at  a  great  dis 
tance  from  its  suburbs.  Such  a  thing  as  an  unex 
plored  or  even  an  unfrequently  visited  recess,  amid 
its  woods  or  groves,  is  not  for  a  moment  to  be  im 
agined.  Let  any  one  who,  being  at  heart  a  lover  of 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        307 

nature,  is  yet  chained  by  duty  to  the  dust  and  heat  of 
this  great  metropolis — let  any  such  one  attempt, 
even  during  the  week-days,  to  slake  his  thirst  for 
solitude  amid  the  scenes  of  natural  loveliness  which 
immediately  surround  us.  At  every  second  step  he 
will  find  the  growing  charm  dispelled  by  the  voice 
and  personal  intrusion  of  some  ruffian  or  party  of 
carousing  blackguards.  He  will  seek  privacy  amid 
the  densest  foliage,  all  in  vain.  Here  are  the  very 
nooks  where  the  unwashed  most  abound — here  are 
the  temples  most  desecrate.  With  sickness  of  the 
heart  the  wanderer  will  flee  back  to  the  polluted 
Paris  as  to  a  less  odious  because  less  incongruous 
sink  of  pollution.  But  if  the  vicinity  of  the  city  is  so 
beset  during  the  working  days  of  the  week,  how 
much  more  so  on  the  Sabbath !  It  is  now  especially 
that,  released  from  the  claims  of  labor,  or  deprived 
of  the  customary  opportunities  of  crime,  the  town 
blackguard  seeks  the  precincts  of  the  town,  not 
through  love  of  the  rural,  which  in  his  heart  he  de 
spises,  but  by  way  of  escape  from  the  restraints  and 
conventionalities  of  society.  He  desires  less  the 
fresh  air  and  the  green  trees,  than  the  utter  license  of 
the  country.  Here,  at  the  roadside  inn,  or  beneath 
the  foliage  of  the  woods,  he  indulges  unchecked  by 
any  eye  except  those  of  his  boon  companions,  in  all 
the  mad  excess  of  a  counterfeit  hilarity — the  joint 
offspring  of  liberty  and  of  rum.  I  say  nothing  more 
than  what  must  be  obvious  to  every  dispassionate 


308         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

observer,  when  I  repeat  that  the  circumstance  of  the 
articles  in  question  having  remained  undiscovered  for 
a  longer  period  than  from  one  Sunday  to  another  in 
any  thicket  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  Paris 
is  to  be  looked  upon  as  little  less  than  miraculous. 

"But  there  are  not  wanting  other  grounds  for  the 
suspicion  that  the  articles  were  placed  in  the  thicket 
with  the  view  of  diverting  attention  from  the  real 
scene  of  the  outrage.  And  first,  let  me  direct  your 
notice  to  the  date  of  the  discovery  of  the  articles. 
Collate  this  with  the  date  of  the  fifth  extract  made 
by  myself  from  the  newspapers.  You  will  find  that 
the  discovery  followed,  almost  immediately,  the  ur 
gent  communications  sent  to  the  evening  paper. 
These  communications,  although  various,  and  appar 
ently  from  various  sources,  tended  all  to  the  same 
point — viz.,  the  directing  of  attention  to  a  gang  as 
the  perpetrators  of  the  outrage,  and  to  the  neighbor 
hood  of  the  Barriere  du  Roule  as  its  scene.  Now, 
here,  of  course,  the  situation  is  not  that,  in  conse 
quence  of  these  communications,  or  of  the  public  at 
tention  by  them  directed,  the  articles  were  found  by 
the  boys ;  but  the  suspicion  might  and  may  well  have 
been  that  the  articles  were  not  before  found  by  the 
boys,  for  the  reason  that  the  articles  had  not  before 
been  in  the  thicket ;  having  been  deposited  there  only 
at  so  late  a  period  as  at  the  date,  or  shortly  prior  to 
the  date  of  the  communication,  by  the  guilty  authors 
of  these  communications  themselves. 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        309 

"This  thicket  was  a  singular — an  exceedingly 
singular  one.  It  was  unusually  dense.  Within  its 
naturally  walled  inclosure  were  three  extraordinary 
stones,  forming  a  seat  with  a  back  and  a  footstool. 
And  this  thicket,  so  full  of  art,  was  in  the  immediate 
vicinity,  within  a  few  rods,  of  the  dwelling  of  Ma 
dame  Deluc,  whose  boys  were  in  the  habit  of  closely 
examining  the  shrubberies  about  them  in  search  of 
the  bark  of  the  sassafras.  Would  it  be  a  rash  wager 
— a  wager  of  one  thousand  to  one — that  a  day  never 
passed  over  the  heads  of  these  boys  without  finding 
at  least  one  of  them  ensconced  in  the  umbrageous 
hall,  and  enthroned  upon  its  natural  throne  ?  Those 
who  would  hesitate  at  such  a  wager  have  either 
never  been  boys  themselves  or  have  forgotten  the 
boyish  nature.  I  repeat — it  is  exceedingly  hard  to 
comprehend  how  the  articles  could  have  remained  in 
this  thicket  undiscovered  for  a  longer  period  than 
one  or  two  days ;  and  that  thus  there  is  good  ground 
for  suspicion,  in  spite  of  the  dogmatic  ignorance  of 
'Le  Soleil/  that  they  were,  at  a  comparatively  late 
date,  deposited  where  found. 

"But  there  are  still  other  and  stronger  reasons  for 
believing  them  so  deposited,  than  any  which  I  have 
as  yet  urged.  And,  now,  let  me  beg  your  notice  to 
the  highly  artificial  arrangement  of  the  articles.  On 
the  upper  stone  lay  a  white  petticoat ;  on  the  second, 
a  silk  scarf ;  scattered  around,  were  a  parasol,  gloves, 
and  a  pocket-handkerchief  bearing  the  name  'Marie 


3io        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

Roget.'  Here  is  just  such  an  arrangement  as  would 
naturally  be  made  by  a  not  over-acute  person  wish 
ing  to  dispose  the  articles  naturally.  But  it  is  by  no 
means  a  really  natural  arrangement.  I  should  rather 
have  looked  to  see  the  things  all  lying  on  the  ground 
and  trampled  under  foot.  In  the  narrow  limits  of 
that  bower,  it  would  have  been  scarcely  possible  that 
the  petticoat  and  scarf  should  have  retained  a  posi 
tion  upon  the  stones,  when  subjected  to  the  brushing 
to  and  fro  of  many  struggling  persons.  'There  was 
evidence/  it  is  said,  'of  a  struggle;  and  the  earth 
was  trampled,  the  bushes  were  broken' — but  the  pet 
ticoat  and  the  scarf  are  found  deposited  as  if  upon 
shelves.  'The  pieces  of  the  frock  torn  out  by  the 
bushes  were  about  three  inches  wide  and  six  inches 
long.  One  part  was  the  hem  of  the  frock  and  it  had 
been  mended.  They  looked  like  strips  torn  off/ 
Here,  inadvertently,  'Le  Soleil'  has  employed  an  ex 
ceedingly  suspicious  phrase.  The  pieces,  as  de 
scribed,  do  indeed  'look  like  strips  torn  off';  but 
purposely  and  by  hand.  It  is  one  of  the  rarest  of  ac 
cidents  that  a  piece  is  'torn  off/  from  any  garment 
such  as  is  now  in  question,  by  the  agency  of  a  thorn. 
From  the  very  nature  of  such  fabrics,  a  thorn  or  nail 
becoming  tangled  in  them,  tears  them  rectangularly 
— divides  them  into  two  longitudinal  rents,  at  right 
angles  with  each  other,  and  meeting  at  an  apex 
where  the  thorn  enters — but  it  is  scarcely  possible  to 
conceive  the  piece  'torn  off.'  I  never  so  knew  it,  nor 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        311 

did  you.  To  tear  a  piece  off  from  such  fabric,  two 
distinct  forces,  in  different  directions,  will  be,  in  al 
most  every  case,  required.  If  there  be  two  edges  to 
the  fabric — if,  for  example,  it  be  a  pocket-handker 
chief,  and  it  is  desired  to  tear  from  it  a  slip,  then, 
and  then  only,  will  the  one  force  serve  the  purpose. 
But  in  the  present  case  the  question  is  of  a  dress, 
presenting  but  one  edge.  To  tear  a  piece  from  the 
interior,  where  no  edge  is  presented,  could  only  be 
effected  by  a  miracle  through  the  agency  of  thorns, 
and  no  one  thorn  could  accomplish  it.  But,  even 
where  an  edge  is  presented,  two  thorns  will  be  neces 
sary,  operating,  the  one  in  two  distinct  directions, 
and  the  other  in  one.  And  this  in  the  supposition 
that  the  edge  is  unhemmed.  If  hemmed,  the  matter 
is  nearly  out  of  the  question.  We  thus  see  the  nu 
merous  and  great  obstacles  in  the  way  of  pieces  be 
ing  'torn  off '  through  the  simple  agency  of  'thorns' ; 
yet  we  are  required  to  believe  not  only  that  one  piece 
but  that  many  have  been  so  torn.  'And  one  part/ 
too,  'was  the  hem  of  the  frock!'  Another  piece  was 
'part  of  the  skirt,  not  the  hem' — that  is  to  say,  was 
torn  completely  out,  through  the  agency  of  thorns, 
from  the  unedged  interior  of  the  dress!  These,  I 
say,  are  things  which  one  may  well  be  pardoned  for 
disbelieving;  yet,  taken  collectedly,  they  form,  per 
haps,  less  of  reasonable  ground  for  suspicion  than 
the  one  startling  circumstance  of  the  articles  having 
been  left  in  this  thicket  at  all,  by  any  murderers  who 


312        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

had  enough  precaution  to  think  of  removing  the 
corpse.  You  will  not  have  apprehended  me  rightly, 
however,  if  you  suppose  it  my  design  to  deny  this 
thicket  as  the  scene  of  the  outrage.  There  might 
have  been  a  wrong  here,  or  more  possibly  an  acci 
dent  at  Madame  Deluc's.  But,  in  fact,  this  is  a 
point  of  minor  importance.  We  are  not  engaged  in 
an  attempt  to  discover  the  scene,  but  to  produce  the 
perpetrators  of  the  murder.  What  I  have  adduced, 
notwithstanding  the  minuteness  with  which  I  have 
adduced  it,  has  been  with  the  view,  first,  to  show 
the  folly  of  the  positive  and  headlong  assertions  of 
'Le  Soleil,'  but  secondly,  and  chiefly,  to  bring  you, 
by  the  most  natural  route,  to  a  further  contempla 
tion  of  the  doubt  whether  this  assassination  has,  or 
has  not,  been  the  work  of  a  gang. 

"We  will  resume  this  question  by  mere  allusion  to 
the  revolting  details  of  the  surgeon  examined  at  the 
inquest.  It  is  only  necessary  to  say  that  his  pub 
lished  inferences,  in  regard  to  the  number  of  the 
ruffians,  have  been  properly  ridiculed  as  unjust  and 
totally  baseless,  by  all  the  reputable  anatomists  of 
Paris.  Not  that  the  matter  might  not  have  been  as 
inferred,  but  that  there  was  no  ground  for  the  in 
ference — was  there  not  much  for  another? 

"Let  us  reflect  now  upon  'the  traces  of  a  strug 
gle';  and  let  me  ask  what  these  traces  have  been 
supposed  to  demonstrate.  A  gang.  But  do  they 
not  rather  demonstrate  the  absence  of  a  gang? 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        313 

What  struggle  could  have  taken  place — what  strug 
gle  so  violent  and  so  enduring  as  to  have  left  its 
'traces'  in  all  directions — between  a  weak  and  de 
fenceless  girl  and  a  gang  of  ruffians  imagined  ?  The 
silent  grasp  of  a  few  rough  arms  and  all  would  have 
been  over.  The  victim  must  have  been  absolutely 
passive  at  their  will.  You  will  here  bear  in  mind' 
that  the  arguments  urged  against  the  thicket  as  the 
scene,  are  applicable,  in  chief  part,  only  against  it  as 
the  scene  of  an  outrage  committed  by  more  than  a 
single  individual.  If  we  imagine  but  one  violator, 
we  can  conceive,  and  thus  only  conceive,  the  struggle 
of  so  violent  and  so  obstinate  a  nature  as  to  have  left 
the  'traces'  apparent. 

"And  again.  I  have  already  mentioned  the  sus 
picion  to  be  excited  by  the  fact  that  the  articles  in 
question  were  suffered  to  remain  at  all  in  the  thicket 
where  discovered.  It  seems  almost  impossible  that 
these  evidences  of  guilt  should  have  been  acciden 
tally  left  where  found.  There  was  sufficient  pres 
ence  of  mind  (it  is  supposed)  to  remove  the  corpse; 
and  yet  a  more  positive  evidence  than  the  corpse 
itself  (whose  features  might  have  been  quickly  ob 
literated  by  decay)  is  allowed  to  lie  conspicuously 
in  the  scene  of  the  outrage — I  allude  to  the  handker 
chief  with  the  name  of  the  deceased.  If  this  was 
accident,  it  was  not  the  accident  of  a  gang.  We 
can  imagine  it  only  the  accident  of  an  individual. 
Let  us  see.  An  individual  has  committed  the  mur- 

I— Poe— 14 


314        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

der.  He  is  alone  with  the  ghost  of  the  departed. 
He  is  appalled  by  what  lies  motionless  before  him. 
The  fury  of  his  passion  is  over,  and  there  is  abun 
dant  room  in  his  heart  for  the  natural  awe  of  the 
deed.  His  is  none  of  that  confidence  which  the 
presence  of  numbers  inevitably  inspires.  He  is  alone 
with  the  dead.  He  trembles  and  is  bewildered.  Yet 
there  is  a  necessity  for  disposing  of  the  corpse.  He 
bears  it  to  the  river,  and  leaves  behind  him  the  other 
evidences  of  his  guilt ;  for  it  is  difficult,  if  not  impos 
sible  to  carry  all  the  burden  at  once,  and  it  will  be 
easy  to  return  for  what  is  left.  But  in  his  toilsome 
journey  to  the  water  his  fears  redouble  within  him. 
The  sounds  of  life  encompass  his  path.  A  dozen 
times  he  hears  or  fancies  he  hears  the  step  of  an 
observer.  Even  the  very  lights  from  the  city  be 
wilder  him.  Yet,  in  time,  and  by  long  and  frequent 
pauses  of  deep  agony,  he  reaches  the  river's  brink, 
and  disposes  of  his  ghastly  charge — perhaps  through 
the  medium  of  a  boat.  But  now  what  treasure  does 
the  world  hold — what  threat  of  vengeance  could  it 
hold  out — which  would  have  power  to  urge  the  re 
turn  of  that  lonely  murderer  over  that  toilsome  and 
perilous  path,  to  the  thicket  and  its  blood-chilling 
recollections?  He  returns  not,  let  the  consequences 
be  what  they  may.  He  could  not  return  if  he  would. 
His  sole  thought  is  immediate  escape.  He  turns  his 
back  forever  upon  those  dreadful  shrubberies,  and 
flees  as  from  the  wrath  to  come. 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget       315 

"But  how  with  a  gang?  Their  number  would 
have  inspired  them  with  confidence;  if,  indeed,  con 
fidence  is  ever  wanting  in  the  breast  of  the  arrant 
blackguard ;  and  of  arrant  blackguards  alone  are  the 
supposed  gangs  ever  constituted.  Their  number,  I 
say,  would  have  prevented  the  bewildering  and  un 
reasoning  terror  which  I  have  imagined  to  paralyze 
the  single  man.  Could  we  suppose  an  oversight  in 
one,  or  two,  or  three,  this  oversight  would  have  been 
remedied  by  a  fourth.  They  would  have  left  noth 
ing  behind  them ;  for  their  number  would  have  en 
abled  them  to  carry  all  at  once.  There  would  have 
been  no  need  of  return. 

"Consider  now  the  circumstance  that,  in  the  outer 
garment  of  the  corpse  when  found,  'a  slip,  about  a 
foot  wide,  had  been  torn  upward  from  the  bottom 
hem  to  the  waist,  wound  three  times  round  the  waist, 
and  secured  by  a  sort  of  hitch  in  the  back/  This  was 
done  with  the  obvious  design  of  affording  a  handle 
by  which  to  carry  the  body.  But  would  any  number 
of  men  have  dreamed  of  resorting  to  such  an  expe 
dient?  To  three  or  four,  the  limbs  of  the  corpse 
would  have  afforded  not  only  a  sufficient,  but  the  best 
possible,  hold.  The  device  is  that  of  a  single  indi 
vidual  ;  and  this  brings  us  to  the  fact  that  'between 
the  thicket  and  the  river  the  rails  of  the  fences  were 
found  taken  down,  and  the  ground  bore  evident 
traces  of  some  heavy  burden  having  been  dragged 
along  it!'  But  would  a  number  of  men  have  put 


316         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

themselves  to  the  superfluous  trouble  of  taking  down 
a  fence,  for  the  purpose  of  dragging  through  it  a 
corpse  which  they  might  have  lifted  over  any  fence 
in  an  instant?  Would  a  number  of  men  have  so 
dragged  a  corpse  at  all  as  to  have  left  evident  traces 
of  the  dragging  ? 

"And  here  we  must  refer  to  an  observation  of  'Le 
Commerciel;'  upon  which  I  have  already,  in  some 
measure,  commented.  'A  piece/  says  this  journal, 
of  one  of  the  unfortunate  girl's  petticoats  was  torn 
out  and  tied  under  her  chin,  and  around  the  back  of 
her  head,  probably  to  prevent  screams.  This  was 
done  by  fellows  who  had  no  pocket-handkerchiefs.' 

"I  have  before  suggested  that  a  genuine  black 
guard  is  never  without  a  pocket-handkerchief.  But 
it  is  not  to  this  fact  that  I  now  especially  advert. 
That  it  was  not  through  want  of  a  handkerchief  for, 
the  purpose  imagined  by  'Le  Commerciel/  that  this 
bandage  was  employed,  is  rendered  apparent  by  the 
handkerchief  left  in  the  thicket;  and  that  the  object 
was  not  'to  prevent  screams'  appears,  also,  from  the 
bandage  having  been  employed  in  preference  to  what 
would  so  much  better  have  answered  the  purpose. 
But  the  language  of  the  evidence  speaks  of  the  strip 
in  question  as  'found  around  the  neck,  fitting  loosely, 
and  secured  with  a  hard  knot.'  These  words  are 
sufficiently  vague,  but  differ  materially  from  those 
of  'Le  Commerciel.'  The  slip  was  eighteen  inches 
wide,  and  therefore,  although  of  muslin,  would  form 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        317 

a  strong  band  when  folded  or  rumpled  longitudi 
nally.  And  thus  rumpled  it  was  discovered.  My 
inference  is  this.  The  solitary  murderer,  having 
borne  the  corpse  for  some  distance  (whether  from 
the  thicket  or  elsewhere)  by  means  of  the  bandage 
hitched  around  its  middle,  found  the  weight,  in  this 
mode  of  procedure,  too  much  for  his  strength.  He 
resolved  to  drag  the  burden — the  evidence  goes  to 
show  that  it  was  dragged.  With  this  object  in  view, 
it  became  necessary  to  attach  something  like  a  rope 
to  one  of  the  extremities.  It  could  be  best  attached 
about  the  neck,  where  the  head  would  prevent  its 
slipping  off.  And  now  the  murderer  bethought  him, 
unquestionably,  of  the  bandage  about  the  loins.  He 
would  have  used  this,  but  for  its  volution  about  the 
corpse,  the  hitch  which  embarrassed  it,  and  the  re 
flection  that  it  had  not  been  'torn  off'  from  the  gar 
ment.  It  was  easier  to  tear  a  new  slip  from  the  petti 
coat.  He  tore  it,  made  it  fast  about  the  neck,  and  so 
dragged  his  victim  to  the  brink  of  the  river.  That 
this  'bandage/  only  attainable  with  trouble  and  de 
lay,  and  but  imperfectly  answering  its  purpose — that 
this  bandage  was  employed  at  all,  demonstrates  that 
the  necessity  for  its  employment  sprang  from  cir 
cumstances  arising  at  a  period  when  the  handker 
chief  was  no  longer  attainable — that  is  to  say,  aris 
ing,  as  we  have  imagined,  after  quitting  the  thicket 
(if  the  thicket  it  was),  and  on  the  road  between  the 
thicket  and  the  river. 


318         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

"But  the  evidence,  you  will  say,  of  Madame  Deluc 
(  ! )  points  especially  to  the  presence  of  a  gang  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  thicket,  at  or  about  the  epoch  of  the 
murder.  This  I  grant.  I  doubt  if  there  were  not  a 
dozen  gangs,  such  as  described  by  Madame  Deluc,  in 
and  about  the  vicinity  of  the  Barriere  du  Roule  at  or 
about  the  period  of  this  tragedy.  But  the  gang 
which  has  drawn  upon  itself  the  pointed  animadver 
sion,  although  the  somewhat  tardy  and  very  suspi 
cious  evidence,  of  Madame  Deluc,  is  the  only  gang 
which  is  represented  by  that  honest  and  scrupulous 
old  lady  as  having  eaten  her  cakes  and  swallowed  her 
brandy,  without  putting  themselves  to  the  trouble  of 
making  her  payment.  Et  hinc  illoe  iroef 

"But  what  is  the  precise  evidence  of  Madame 
Deluc?  'A  gang  of  miscreants  made  their  appear 
ance,  behaved  boisterously,  ate  and  drank  without 
making  payment,  followed  in  the  route  of  the  young 
man  and  the  girl,  returned  to  the  inn  about  dusk, 
and  re-crossed  the  river  as  if  in  great  haste/ 

"Now  this  'great  haste'  very  possibly  seemed 
greater  haste  in  the  eyes  of  Madame  Deluc,  since 
she  dwelt  lingeringly  and  lamentingly  upon  her  vio 
lated  cakes  and  ale — cakes  and  ale  for  which  she 
might  still  have  entertained  a  faint  hope  of  com 
pensation.  Why,  otherwise,  since  it  was  about  dusk, 
should  she  make  a  point  of  the  haste?  It  is  no  cause 
for  wonder,  surely,  that  even  a  gang  of  blackguards 
should  make  haste  to  get  home  when  a  wide  river  is 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        319 

to  be  crossed  in  small  boats,  when  storm  impends, 
and  when  night  approaches. 

"I  say  approaches;  for  the  night  had  not  yet  ar 
rived.  It  was  only  about  dusk  that  the  indecent  haste 
of  these  'miscreants'  offended  the  sober  eyes  of 
Madame  Deluc.  But  we  are  told  that  it  was  upon 
this  very  evening  that  Madame  Deluc,  as  well  as  her 
eldest  son,  'heard  the  screams  of  a  female  in  the  vi 
cinity  of  the  inn/  And  in  what  words  does  Madame 
Deluc  designate  the  period  of  the  evening  at  which 
these  screams  were  heard ?  'It  was  soon  after  dark' 
she  says.  But  'soon  after  dark'  is,  at  least,  dark;  and 
'about  dusk'  is  as  certainly  daylight.  Thus  it  is 
abundantly  clear  that  the  gang  quitted  the  Barriere 
du  Roule  prior  to  the  screams  overheard  (?)  by 
Madame  Deluc.  And  although,  in  all  the  many  re 
ports  of  the  evidence,  the  relative  expressions  in 
question  are  distinctly  and  invariably  employed  just 
as  I  have  employed  them  in  this  conversation  with 
yourself,  no  notice  whatever  of  the  gross  discrepancy 
has,  as  yet,  been  taken  by  any  of  the  public  journals, 
or  by  any  of  the  myrmidons  of  police. 

"I  shall  add  but  one  to  the  arguments  against  a 
gang;  but  this  one  has,  to  my  own  understanding  at 
least,  a  weight  altogether  irresistible.  Under  the  cir 
cumstances  of  large  reward  offered,  and  full  pardon 
to  any  king's  evidence,  it  is  not  to  be  imagined,  for 
a  moment,  that  some  member  of  a  gang  of  low  ruf 
fians,  or  of  any  body  of  men  would  not  long  ago  have 


320         Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

betrayed  his  accomplices.  Each  one  of  a  gang,  so 
placed,  is  not  so  much  greedy  of  reward,  or  anxious 
for  escape,  as  fearful  of  betrayal.  He  betrays 
eagerly  and  early  that  he  may  not  himself  be  be 
trayed.  That  the  secret  has  not  been  divulged  is  the 
very  best  of  proof  that  it  is,  in  fact,  a  secret.  The 
horrors  of  this  dark  deed  are  known  only  to  one,  or 
two,  living  human  beings,  and  to  God. 

"Let  us  sum  up  now  the  meagre  yet  certain  fruits 
of  our  long  analysis.  We  have  attained  the  idea 
either  of  a  fatal  accident  under  the  roof  of  Madame 
Deluc,  or  of  a  murder  perpetrated,  in  the  thicket  at 
the  Barriere  du  Roule,  by  a  lover,  or  at  least  by  an 
intimate  and  secret  associate  of  the  deceased.  This 
associate  is  of  swarthy  complexion.  This  complex 
ion,  the  'hitch'  in  the  bandage,  and  the  'sailor's  knot' 
with  which  the  bonnet-ribbon  is  tied,  point  to  a  sea 
man.  His  companionship  with  the  deceased — a  gay 
but  not  an  abject  young  girl — designates  him  as 
above  the  grade  of  the  common  sailor.  Here  the 
well-written  and  urgent  communications  to  the 
journals  are  much  in  the  way  of  corroboration.  The 
circumstance  of  the  first  elopement,  as  mentioned  by 
'Le  Mercuric/  tends  to  blend  the  idea  of  this  sea 
man  with  that  of  the  'naval  officer'  who  is  first 
known  to  have  led  the  unfortunate  into  crime. 

"And  here,  most  fitly,  comes  the  consideration  of 
the  continued  absence  of  him  of  the  dark  complexion. 
Let  me  pause  to  observe  that  the  complexion  of  this 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        321 

man  is  dark  and  swarthy;  it  was  no  common 
swarthiness  which  constituted  the  sole  point  of  re 
membrance,  both  as  regards  Valence  and  Madame 
Deluc.  But  why  is  this  man  absent  ?  Was  he  mur 
dered  by  the  gang?  If  so,  why  are  there  only  traces 
of  the  assassinated  girl?  The  scene  of  the  two  out 
rages  will  naturally  be  supposed  identical.  And 
where  is  his  corpse?  The  assassins  would  most 
probably  have  disposed  of  both  in  the  same  way.  But 
it  may  be  said  that  this  man  lives,  and  is  deterred 
from  making  himself  known,  through  dread  of  being 
charged  with  the  murder.  This  consideration  might 
be  supposed  to  operate  upon  him  now — at  this  late 
period — since  it  has  been  given  in  evidence  that  he 
was  seen  with  Marie,  but  it  would  have  had  no  force 
at  the  period  of  the  deed.  The  first  impulse  of  an 
innocent  man  would  have  been  to  announce  the  out 
rage,  and  to  aid  in  identifying  the  ruffians.  This 
policy  would  have  suggested.  He  had  been  seen 
with  the  girl.  He  had  crossed  the  river  with  her  in 
an  open  ferryboat.  The  denouncing  of  the  assassins 
would  have  appeared,  even  to  an  idiot,  the  surest  and 
sole  means  of  relieving  himself  from  suspicion.  We 
can  not  suppose  him,  on  the  night  of  the  fatal  Sun 
day,  both  innocent  himself  and  incognizant  of  an 
outrage  committed.  Yet  only  under  such  circum 
stances  is  it  possible  to  imagine  that  he  would  have 
failed,  if  alive,  in  the  denouncement  of  the  assassins. 
"And  what  means  are  ours  of  attaining  the  truth  ? 


322        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

We  shall  find  these  means  multiplying  and  gathering 
distinctness  as  we  proceed.  Let  us  sift  to  the  bot 
tom  this  affair  of  the  first  elopement.  Let  us  know 
the  full  history  of  'the  officer/  with  his  present 
circumstances,  and  his  whereabout  at  the  precise 
period  of  the  murder.  Let  us  carefully  compare  with 
each  other  the  various  communications  sent  to  the 
evening  paper,  in  which  the  object  was  to  inculpate 
a  gang.  This  done,  let  us  compare  these  communi 
cations,  both  as  regards  style  and  MS.,  with  those 
sent  to  the  morning  paper,  at  a  previous  period,  and 
insisting  so  vehemently  upon  the  guilt  of  Mennais. 
And,  all  this  done,  let  us  again  compare  these  various 
communications  with  the  known  MSS.  of  the  officer. 
Let  us  endeavor  to  ascertain,  by  repeated  question 
ings  of  Madame  Deluc  and  her  boys,  as  well  as  of  the 
omnibus-driver,  Valence,  something  more  of  the  per 
sonal  appearance  and  bearing  of  the  'man  of  dark 
complexion.'  Queries,  skilfully  directed  will  not  fail 
to  elicit,  from  some  of  these  parties,  information  on 
this  particular  point  (or  upon  others) — informa 
tion  which  the  parties  themselves  may  not  even  be 
aware  of  possessing.  And  let  us  now  trace  the  boat 
picked  up  by  the  bargeman  on  the  morning  of  Mon 
day  the  twenty-third  of  June,  and  which  was  re 
moved  from  the  barge-office,  without  the  cognizance 
of  the  officer  in  attendance,  and  without  the  rudder, 
at  some  period  prior  to  the  discovery  of  the  corpse. 
With  a  proper  caution  and  perseverance  we  shall  in- 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        323 

fallibly  trace  this  boat;  for  not  only  can  the  barge 
man  who  picked  it  up  identify  it,  but  the  rudder  is  at 
hand.  The  rudder  of  a  sail  boat  would  not  have 
been  abandoned,  without  inquiry,  by  one  altogether 
at  ease  in  heart.  And  here  let  me  pause  to  insinuate 
a  question.  There  was  no  advertisement  of  the  pick 
ing  up  of  this  boat.  It  was  silently  taken  to  the 
barge-office  and  as  silently  removed.  But  its  owner 
or  employer — how  happened  he,  at  so  early  a  period 
as  Tuesday  morning,  to  be  informed,  without  the 
agency  of  advertisement,  of  the  locality  of  the  boat 
taken  up  on  Monday,  unless  we  imagine  some  con 
nection  with  the  navy — some  personal  permanent 
connection  leading  to  cognizance  of  its  minute  inter 
ests — its  petty  local  news? 

"In  speaking  of  the  lonely  assassin  dragging  his 
burden  to  the  shore,  I  have  already  suggested  the 
probability  of  his  availing  himself  of  a  boat.  Now 
we  are  to  understand  that  Marie  Roget  was  precipi 
tated  from  a  boat.  This  would  naturally  have  been 
the  case.  The  corpse  could  not  have  been  trusted  to 
the  shallow  waters  of  the  shore.  The  peculiar  marks 
on  the  back  and  shoulders  of  the  victim  tell  of  the 
bottom  ribs  of  a  boat.  That  the  body  was  found 
without  weight  is  also  corroborative  of  the  idea.  If 
thrown  from  the  shore  a  weight  would  have  been  at 
tached.  We  can  only  account  for  its  absence  by  sup 
posing  the  murderer  to  have  neglected  the  precaution 
of  supplying  himself  with  it  before  pushing  off.  In 


324        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

the  act  of  consigning  the  corpse  to  the  water,  he 
would  unquestionably  have  noticed  his  oversight; 
but  then  no  remedy  would  have  been  at  hand.  Any 
risk  would  have  been  preferred  to  a  return  to  that 
accursed  shore.  Having  rid  himself  of  his  ghastly 
charge,  the  murderer  would  have  hastened  to  the 
city.  There,  at  some  obscure  wharf,  he  would  have 
leaped  on  land.  But  the  boat — would  he  have  se 
cured  it  ?  He  would  have  been  in  too  great  haste  for 
such  things  as  securing  a  boat.  Moreover,  in  fas 
tening  it  to  the  wharf,  he  would  have  felt  as  if  secur 
ing  evidence  against  himself.  His  natural  thought 
would  have  been  to  cast  from  him,  as  far  as  possible, 
all  that  had  held  connection  with  his  crime.  He 
would  not  only  have  fled  from  the  wharf,  but  he 
would  not  have  permitted  the  boat  to  remain.  As 
suredly  he  would  have  cast  it  adrift.  Let  us  pursue 
our  fancies.  In  the  morning,  the  wretch  is  stricken 
with  unutterable  horror  at  rinding  that  the  boat  has 
been  picked  up  and  detained  at  a  locality  which  he  is 
in  the  daily  habit  of  frequenting — at  a  locality,  per 
haps,  which  his  duty  compels  him  to  frequent.  The 
next  night,  without  daring  to  ask  for  the  rudder,  he 
removes  it.  Now  where  is  that  rudderless  boat  ?  Let 
it  be  one  of  our  first  purposes  to  discover.  With  the 
first  glimpse  we  obtain  of  it,  the  dawn  of  our  success 
shall  begin.  This  boat  shall  guide  us,  with  a  rapid 
ity  which  will  surprise  even  ourselves,  to  him  who 
employed  it  in  the  midnight  of  the  fatal  Sabbath. 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget        325 

Corroboration  will  rise  upon  corroboration,  and  the 
murderer  will  be  traced." 

[For  reasons  which  we  shall  not  specify,  but  which 
to  many  readers  will  appear  obvious,  we  have  taken 
the  liberty  of  here  omitting,  from  the  MSS.  placed 
in  our  hands,  such  portion  as  details  the  following  up 
of  the  apparently  slight  clew  obtained  by  Dupin. 
We  feel  it  advisable  only  to  state,  in  brief,  that  the 
result  desired  was  brought  to  pass ;  and  that  the  Pre 
fect  fulfilled  punctually,  although  with  reluctance,  the 
terms  of  his  compact  with  the  Chevalier.  Mr..  Poe's 
article  concludes  with  the  following  words. — Eds.*] 

It  will  be  understood  that  I  speak  of  coincidences 
and  no  more.  What  I  have  said  above  upon  this 
topic  must  suffice.  In  my  own  heart  there  dwells  no 
faith  in  prseter-nature.  That  Nature  and  its  God  are 
two,  no  man  who  thinks  will  deny.  That  the  latter, 
creating  the  former,  can,  at  will,  control  or  modify 
it,  is  also  unquestionable.  I  say  "at  will" ;  for  the 
question  is  of  will,  and  not,  as  the  insanity  of  logic 
has  assumed,  of  power.  It  is  not  that  the  Deity  can 
not  modify  his  laws,  but  that  we  insult  him  in  imag 
ining  a  possible  necessity  for  modification.  In  their 
origin  these  laws  were  fashioned  to  embrace  all  con 
tingencies  which  could  lie  in  the  Future.  With  God 
all  is  Now. 

I  repeat,  then,  that  I  speak  of  these  things  only  as 

*  Of  the  Magazine  in  which  the  article  was  originally  pub 
lished. 


326        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

of  coincidences.  And  further:  in  what  I  relate  it 
will  be  seen  that  between  the  fate  of  the  unhappy 
Mary  Cecilia  Rogers,  so  far  as  that  fate  is  known,  and 
the  fate  of  one  Marie  Roget  up  to  a  certain  epoch  in 
her  history,  there  has  existed  a  parallel  in  the  con 
templation  of  whose  wonderful  exactitude  the  reason 
becomes  embarrassed.  I  say  all  this  will  be  seen. 
But  let  it  not  for  a  moment  be  supposed  that,  in  pro 
ceeding  with  the  sad  narrative  of  Marie  from  the 
epoch  just  mentioned,  and  in  tracing  to  its  denoue 
ment  the  mystery  which  enshrouded  her,  it  is  my  co 
vert  design  to  hint  at  an  extension  of  the  parallel,  or 
even  to  suggest  that  the  measures  adopted  in  Paris 
for  the  discovery  of  the  assassin  of  a  grisette,  or 
measures  founded  in  any  similar  ratiocination  would 
produce  any  similar  result. 

For,  in  respect  to  the  latter  branch  of  the  suppo 
sition,  it  should  be  considered  that  the  most  trifling 
variation  in  the  facts  of  the  two  cases  might  give  rise 
to  the  most  important  miscalculations,  by  diverting 
thoroughly  the  two  courses  of  events ;  very  much  as, 
in  arithmetic,  an  error  which,  in  its  own  individual 
ity,  may  be  inappreciable,  produces,  at  length,  by  dint 
of  multiplication  at  all  points  of  the  process,  a  re 
sult  enormously  at  variance  with  truth.  And,  in  re 
gard  to  the  former  branch,  we  must  not  fail  to  hold 
in  view  that  the  very  Calculus  of  Probabilities  to 
which  I  have  referred,  forbids  all  idea  of  the  ex 
tension  of  the  parallel — forbids  it  with  a  positiveness 


The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget       327 

strong  and  decided  just  in  proportion  as  this  parallel 
has  already  been  long-drawn  and  exact.  This  is  one 
of  those  anomalous  propositions  which,  seemingly 
appealing  to  thought  altogether  apart  from  the 
mathematical,  is  yet  one  which  only  the  mathema 
tician  can  fully  entertain.  Nothing,  for  example,  is 
more  difficult  than  to  convince  the  merely  general 
reader  that  the  fact  of  sixes  having  been  thrown 
twice  in  succession  by  a  player  at  dice,  is  sufficient 
cause  for  betting  the  largest  odds  that  sixes  will  not 
be  thrown  in  the  third  attempt.  A  suggestion  to  this 
effect  is  usually  rejected  by  the  intellect  at  once.  It 
does  not  appear  that  the  two  throws  which  have  been 
completed,  and  which  lie  now  absolutely  in  the  Past, 
can  have  influence  upon  the  throw  which  exists  only 
in  the  Future.  The  chance  for  throwing  sixes  seems 
to  be  precisely  as  it  was  at  any  ordinary  time — that 
is  to  say,  subject  only  to  the  influence  of  the  various 
other  throws  which  may  be  made  by  the  dice.  And 
this  is  a  reflection  which  appears  so  exceedingly  ob 
vious  that  attempts  to  controvert  it  are  received  more 
frequently  with  a  derisive  smile  than  with  anything 
like  respectful  attention.  The  error  here  involved — 
a  gross  error  redolent  of  mischief — I  cannot  pretend 
to  expose  within  the  limits  assigned  me  at  present; 
with  the  philosophical  it  needs  no  exposure.  It  may 
be  sufficient  here  to  say  that  it  forms  one  of  an  infinite 
series  of  mistakes  which  arise  in  the  path  of  Reason 
through  her  propensity  for  seeking  truth  in  detail. 


THE  BALLOON  HOAX 

[Astounding  News  by  Express,  via  Norfolk!  —  The  Atlantic 
Crossed  in  Three  Days!  Signal  Triumph  of  Mr.  Monck 
Mason's  Flying  Machine!  —  Arrival  at  Sullivan's  Island,  near 
Charleston,  S.  C,  of  Mr.  Mason,  Mr.  Robert  Holland,  Mr. 
Henson,  Mr.  Harrison  Ainsworth,  and  four  others,  in  the 
Steering  Balloon,  "Victoria,"  after  a  Passage  of  Seventy- 
five  Hours  from  Land  to  Land!  Full  Particulars  of  the 
Voyage  ! 

The  subjoined  jeu  d'  esprit  with  the  preceding  heading  in 
magnificent  capitals,  well  interspersed  with  notes  of  admira 
tion,  was  originally  published,  as  matter  of  fact,  in  the  New 
York  "Sun,"  a  daily  newspaper,  and  therein  fully  subserved  the 
purpose  of  creating  indigestible  aliment  for  the  quidnuncs 
during  the  few  hours  intervening  between  a  couple  of  the 
Charleston  mails.  The  rush  for  the  "sole  paper  which  had  the 
news"  was  something  beyond  even  the  prodigious;  and,  in 
fact,  if  (as  some  assert)  the  "Victoria"  did  not  absolutely 
accomplish  the  voyage  recorded,  it  will  be  difficult  to  assign 
a  reason  why  she  should  not  have  accomplished  it] 


great  problem  is  at  length  solved!  The 
air,  as  well  as  the  earth  and  the  ocean,  has 
been  subdued  by  science,  and  will  become  a  common 
and  convenient  highway  for  mankind.  The  Atlantic 
has  been  actually  crossed  in  a  Balloon!  and  this  too 
without  difficulty  —  without  any  great  apparent  dan 
ger  —  with  thorough  control  of  the  machine  —  and  in 
the  inconceivably  brief  period  of  seventy-five  hours 
from  shore  to  shore  !  By  the  energy  of  an  agent  at 
Charleston,  S.  C.,  we  are  enabled  to  be  the  first  to 
furnish  the  public  with  a  detailed  account  of  this 
(3*8) 


The   Balloon   Hoax  329 

most  extraordinary  voyage,  which  was  performed 
between  Saturday,  the  6th  instant,  at  n  A.  M.  and  2, 
p.  M.,  on  Tuesday,  the  Qth  instant,  by  Sir  Everard 
Bringhurst;  Mr.  Osborne,  a  nephew  of  Lord  Ben- 
tinck's ;  Mr.  Monck  Mason  and  Mr.  Robert  Holland, 
the  well-known  aeronauts ;  Mr.  Harrison  Ainsworth, 
author  of  "Jack  Sheppard,"  etc.;  and  Mr.  Henson, 
the  projector  of  the  late  unsuccessful  flying  machine 
— with  two  seamen  from  Woolwich — in  all,  eight 
persons.  The  particulars  furnished  below  may  be  re 
lied  on  as  authentic  and  accurate  in  every  respect,  as, 
with  a  slight  exception,  they  are  copied  verbatim 
from  the  joint  diaries  of  Mr.  Monck  Mason  and  Mr. 
Harrison  Ainsworth,  to  whose  politeness  our  agent 
is  also  indebted  for  much  verbal  information  respect 
ing  the  balloon  itself,  its  construction,  and  other 
matters  of  interest.  The  only  alteration  in  the  MS. 
received  has  been  made  for  the  purpose  of  throwing 
the  hurried  account  of  our  agent,  Mr.  Forsyth,  into  a 
connected  and  intelligible  form. 


"Two  very  decided  failures,  of  late — those  of  Mr. 
Henson  and  Sir  George  Cayley — had  much  weak 
ened  the  public  interest  in  the  subject  of  aerial  navi 
gation.  Mr.  Henson's  scheme  (which  at  first  was 
considered  very  feasible  even  by  men  of  science)  was 
founded  upon  the  principle  of  an  inclined  plane, 
started  from  an  eminence  by  an  extrinsic  force,  ap- 


330        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

plied  and  continued  by  the  revolution  of  impinging 
vanes,  in  form  and  number  resembling  the  vanes  of 
a  windmill.  But,  in  all  the  experiments  made  with 
models  at  the  Adelaide  Gallery,  it  was  found  that  the 
operation  of  these  fans  not  only  did  not  propel  the 
machine,  but  actually  impeded  its  flight.  The  only 
propelling  force  it  ever  exhibited  was  the  mere  im 
petus  acquired  from  the  descent  of  the  inclined  plane ; 
and  this  impetus  carried  the  machine  further  when 
the  vanes  were  at  rest  than  when  they  were  in  motion 
— a  fact  which  sufficiently  demonstrates  their  inutil- 
ity;  and  in  the  absence  of  the  propelling,  which  was 
also  the  sustaining.,  power,  the  whole  fabric  would 
necessarily  descend.  This  consideration  led  Sir 
George  Cayley  to  think  only  of  adapting  a  propeller 
to  some  machine  having  of  itself  an  independent 
power  of  support — in  a  word,  to  a  balloon ;  the  idea, 
however,  being  novel,  or  original,  with  Sir  George, 
only  so  far  as  regards  the  mode  of  its  application  to 
practice.  He  exhibited  a  model  of  his  invention  at  the 
Polytechnic  Institution.  The  propelling  principle,  or 
power,  was  here,  also,  applied  to  interrupted  sur 
faces,  or  vanes,  put  in  revolution.  These  vanes  were 
four  in  number,  but  were  found  entirely  ineffectual 
in  moving  the  balloon,  or  in  aiding  its  ascending 
power.  The  whole  project  was  thus  a  complete  fail 
ure. 

"It  was  at  this  juncture  that  Mr.  Monck  Mason 
(whose  voyage  from  Dover  to  Weilburg  in  the  bal- 


The   Balloon   Hoax  331 

loon  'Nassau'  occasioned  so  much  excitement  in 
1837)  conceived  the  idea  of  employing  the  principle 
of  the  Archimedean  screw  for  the  purpose  of  pro 
pulsion  through  the  air — rightly  attributing  the  fail 
ure  of  Mr.  Henson's  scheme,  and  of  Sir  George  Cay- 
ley's  to  the  interruption  of  surface  in  the  independent 
vanes.  He  made  the  first  public  experiment  at  Wil 
lis's  Rooms,  but  afterward  removed  his  model  to  the 
Adelaide  Gallery. 

"Like  Sir  George  Cayley's  balloon,  his  own  was 
an  ellipsoid.  Its  length  was  thirteen  feet  six  inches 
— height,  six  feet  eight  inches.  It  contained  about 
three  hundred  and  twenty  cubic  feet  of  gas,  which,  if 
pure  hydrogen,  would  support  twenty-one  pounds 
upon  its  first  inflation,  before  the  gas  has  time  to  de 
teriorate  or  escape.  The  weight  of  the  whole  ma 
chine  and  apparatus  was  seventeen  pounds — leaving 
about  four  pounds  to  spare.  Beneath  the  centre  of 
the  balloon  was  a  frame  of  light  wood,  about  nine 
feet  long,  and  rigged  on  to  the  balloon  itself  with  a 
network  in  the  customary  manner.  From  this  frame 
work  was  suspended  a  wicker  basket  or  car. 

"The  screw  consists  of  an  axis  of  hollow  brass 
tube,  eighteen  inches  in  length,  through  which,  upon 
a  semi-spiral  inclined  at  fifteen  degrees,  pass  a  series 
of  steel-wire  radii,  two  feet  long,  and  thus  projecting 
a  foot  on  either  side.  These  radii  are  connected  at 
the  outer  extremities  by  two  bands  of  flattened  wire 
— the  whole  in  this  manner  forming  the  framework 


332        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poc 

of  the  screw,  which  is  completed  by  a  covering  of 
oiled  silk  cut  into  gores,  and  tightened  so  as  to  pre 
sent  a  tolerably  uniform  surface.  At  each  end  of 
its  axis  this  screw  is  supported  by  pillars  of  hollow 
brass  tube  descending  from  the  hoop.  In  the  lower 
ends  of  these  tubes  are  holes  in  which  the  pivots  of 
the  axis  revolve.  From  the  end  of  the  axis  which  is 
next  the  car,  proceeds  a  shaft  of  steel,  connecting  the 
screw  with  the  pinion  of  a  piece  of  spring  machinery 
fixed  in  the  car.  By  the  operation  of  this  spring,  the 
screw  is  made  to  revolve  with  great  rapidity,  com 
municating  a  progressive  motion  to  the  whole.  By 
means  of  the  rudder,  the  machine  was  readily  turned 
in  any  direction.  The  spring  was  of  great  power, 
compared  with  its  dimensions,  being  capable  of  rais 
ing  forty-five  pounds  upon  a  barrel  of  four  inches 
diameter,  after  the  first  turn,  and  gradually  increas 
ing  as  it  was  wound  up.  It  weighed,  altogether, 
eight  pounds  six  ounces.  The  rudder  was  a  light 
frame  of  cane  covered  with  silk,  shaped  somewhat 
like  a  battledoor,  and  was  about  three  feet  long,  and 
at  the  widest,  one  foot.  Its  weight  was  about  two 
ounces.  It  could  be  turned  fiat,  and  directed  upward 
or  downward,  as  well  as  to  the  right  or  left ;  and  thus 
enabled  the  aeronaut  to  transfer  the  resistance  of  the 
air  which  in  an  inclined  position  it  must  generate  in 
its  passage,  to  any  side  upon  which  he  might  desire 
to  act ;  thus  determining  the  balloon  in  the  opposite 
direction. 


The   Balloon   Hoax  333 

"This  model  (which,  through  want  of  time,  we 
have  necessarily  described  in  an  imperfect  manner) 
was  put  in  action  at  the  Adelaide  Gallery,  where  it 
accomplished  a  velocity  of  five  miles  per  hour;  al 
though,  strange  to  say,  it  excited  very  little  interest 
in  comparison  with  the  previous  complex  machine  of 
Mr.  Henson — so  resolute  is  the  world  to  despise  any 
thing  which  carries  with  it  an  air  of  simplicity.  To 
accomplish  the  great  desideratum  of  aerial  naviga 
tion,  it  was  very  generally  supposed  that  some  ex 
ceedingly  complicated  application  must  be  made  of 
some  unusually  profound  principle  in  dynamics. 

"So  well  satisfied,  however,  was  Mr.  Mason  of  the 
ultimate  success  of  his  invention,  that  he  determined 
to  construct  immediately,  if  possible,  a  balloon  of 
sufficient  capacity  to  test  the  question  by  a  voyage  of 
some  extent — the  original  design  being  to  cross  the 
British  Channel,  as  before,  in  the  'Nassau'  balloon. 
To  carry  out  his  views,  he  solicited  and  obtained  the 
patronage  of  Sir  Everard  Bringhurst  and  Mr.  Os- 
borne,  two  gentlemen  well  known  for  scientific  ac 
quirement,  and  especially  for  the  interest  they  have 
exhibited  in  the  progress  of  aerostation.  The  proj 
ect,  at  the  desire  of  Mr.  Osborne,  was  kept  a  pro 
found  secret  from  the  public — the  only  persons  in 
trusted  with  the  design  being  those  actually  engaged 
in  the  construction  of  the  machine,  which  was  built 
(under  the  superintendence  of  Mr.  Mason,  Mr.  Hol 
land,  Sir  Everard  Bringhurst,  and  Mr.  Osborne)  at 


334        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

the  seat  of  the  latter  gentleman  near  Penstruthal,  in 
Wales.  Mr.  Henson,  accompanied  by  his  friend  Mr. 
Ainsworth,  was  admitted  to  a  private  view  of  the 
balloon,  on  Saturday  last — when  the  two  gentlemen 
made  final  arrangements  to  be  included  in  the  adven 
ture.  We  are  not  informed  for  what  reason  the  two 
seamen  were  also  included  in  the  party — but,  in  the 
course  of  a  day  or  two,  we  shall  put  our  readers  in 
possession  of  the  minutest  particulars  respecting  this 
extraordinary  voyage. 

"The  balloon  is  composed  of  silk,  varnished  with 
the  liquid  gum  caoutchouc.  It  is  of  vast  dimensions, 
containing  more  than  40,000  cubic  feet  of  gas;  but 
as  coal-gas  was  employed  in  place  of  the  more  ex 
pensive  and  inconvenient  hydrogen,  the  supporting 
power  of  the  machine,  when  fully  inflated,  and  im 
mediately  after  inflation,  is  not  more  than  about 
2,500  pounds.  The  coal-gas  is  not  only  much  less 
costly,  but  is  easily  procured  and  managed. 

"For  its  introduction  into  common  use  for  pur 
poses  of  aerostation,  we  are  indebted  to  Mr.  Charles 
Green.  Up  to  his  discovery,  the  process  of  inflation 
was  not  only  exceedingly  expensive,  but  uncertain. 
Two  and  even  three  days  have  frequently  been 
wasted  in  futile  attempts  to  procure  a  sufficiency  of 
hydrogen  to  fill  a  balloon,  from  which  it  had  great 
tendency  to  escape,  owing  to  its  extreme  subtlety, 
and  its  affinity  for  the  surrounding  atmosphere.  In 
a  balloon  sufficiently  perfect  to  retain  its  contents  of 


The   Balloon   Hoax  335 

coal-gas  unaltered,  in  quantity  or  amount,  for  six 
months,  an  equal  quantity  of  hydrogen  could  not  be 
maintained  in  equal  purity  for  six  weeks. 

"The  supporting  power  being  estimated  at  2,500 
pounds,  and  the  united  weights  of  the  party  amount 
ing  only  to  about  1,200,  there  was  left  a  surplus  of 
1,300,  of  which  again  1,200  was  exhausted  by  bal 
last,  arranged  in  bags  of  different  sizes,  with  their 
respective  weights  marked  upon  them — by  cordage, 
barometers,  telescopes,  barrels  containing  provision 
for  a  fortnight,  water-casks,  cloaks,  carpet-bags,  and 
various  other  indispensable  matters,  including  a  cof 
fee-warmer,  contrived  for  warming  coffee  by  means 
of  slack-lime,  so  as  to  dispense  altogether  with  fire, 
if  it  should  be  judged  prudent  to  do  so.  All  these 
articles,  with  the  exception  of  the  ballast,  and  a  few 
trifles,  were  suspended  from  the  hoop  overhead.  The 
car  is  much  smaller  and  lighter,  in  proportion,  than 
the  one  appended  to  the  model.  It  is  formed  of  a 
light  wicker,  and  is  wonderfully  strong,  for  so  frail- 
looking  a  machine.  Its  rim  is  about  four  feet  deep. 
The  rudder  is  also  very  much  larger,  in  proportion, 
than  that  of  the  model ;  and  the  screw  is  considerably 
smaller.  The  balloon  is  furnished  besides  with  a 
grapnel  and  a  guide-rope,  which  latter  is  of  the 
most  indispensable  importance.  A  few  words,  in 
explanation,  will  here  be  necessary  for  such  of  our 
readers  as  are  not  conversant  with  the  details  of 
aerostation. 


336        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

"As  soon  as  the  balloon  quits  the  earth,  it  is  sub 
jected  to  the  influence  of  many  circumstances  tend 
ing  to  create  a  difference  in  its  weight ;  augmenting 
or  diminishing  its  ascending  power.  For  example, 
there  may  be  a  deposition  of  dew  upon  the  silk,  to 
the  extent,  even,  of  several  hundred  pounds;  ballast 
has  then  to  be  thrown  out,  or  the  machine  may  de 
scend.  This  ballast  being  discarded,  and  a  clear  sun 
shine  evaporating  the  dew,  and  at  the  same  time  ex 
panding  the  gas  in  the  silk,  the  whole  will  again  rap 
idly  ascend.  To  check  this  ascent,  the  only  resource 
is  (or  rather  was,  until  Mr.  Green's  invention  of  the 
guide-rope)  the  permission  of  the  escape  of  gas  from 
the  valve;  but  in  the  loss  of  gas  is  a  proportionate 
general  loss  of  ascending  power ;  so  that,  in  a  com 
paratively  brief  period,  the  best-constructed  balloon 
must  necessarily  exhaust  all  its  resources,  and  come 
to  the  earth.  This  was  the  great  obstacle  to  voyages 
of  length. 

"The  guide-rope  remedies  the  difficulty  in  the  sim 
plest  manner  conceivable.  It  is  merely  a  very  long 
rope  which  is  suffered  to  trail  from  the  car,  and  the 
effect  of  which  is  to  prevent  the  balloon  from  chang 
ing  its  level  in  any  material  degree.  If,  for  example, 
there  should  be  a  deposition  of  moisture  upon  the 
silk,  and  the  machine  begins  to  descend  in  conse 
quence,  there  will  be  no  necessity  for  discharging 
ballast  to  remedy  the  increase  of  weight,  for  it  is 
remedied,  or  counteracted,  in  an  exactly  just  propor- 


The   Balloon   Hoax  337 

tion,  by  the  deposit  on  the  ground  of  just  so  much 
of  the  end  of  the  rope  as  is  necessary.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  any  circumstances  should  cause  undue 
levity,  and  consequent  ascent,  this  levity  is  imme 
diately  counteracted  by  the  additional  weight  of  rope 
upraised  from  the  earth.  Thus  the  balloon  can 
neither  ascend  nor  descend  except  within  very  nar 
row  limits,  and  its  resources,  either  in  gas  or  ballast, 
remain  comparatively  unimpaired.  When  passing 
over  an  expanse  of  water,  it  becomes  necessary  to 
employ  small  kegs  of  copper  or  wood,  filled  with 
liquid  ballast  of  a  lighter  nature  than  water.  These 
float,  and  serve  all  the  purposes  of  a  mere  rope  on 
land.  Another  most  important  office  of  the  guide- 
rope  is  to  point  out  the  direction  of  the  balloon.  The 
rope  drags,  either  on  land  or  sea,  while  the  balloon  is 
free;  the  latter,  consequently,  is  always  in  advance, 
when  any  progress  whatever  is  made :  a  comparison, 
therefore,  by  means  of  the  compass,  of  the  relative 
positions  of  the  two  objects,  will  always  indicate  the 
course.  In  the  same  way,  the  angle  formed  by  the 
rope  with  the  vertical  axis  of  the  machine,  indicates 
the  velocity.  When  there  is  no  angle — in  other 
words,  when  the  rope  hangs  perpendicularly — the 
whole  apparatus  is  stationary;  but  the  larger  the 
angle,  that  is  to  say,  the  further  the  balloon  precedes 
the  end  of  the  rope,  the  greater  the  velocity ;  and  the 
converse. 

"As  the  original  design  was  to  cross  the  British 

I— Poe— 15 


338        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

Channel  and  alight  as  near  Paris  as  possible,  the 
voyagers  had  taken  the  precaution  to  prepare  them 
selves  with  passports  directed  to  all  parts  of  the  Con 
tinent,  specifying  the  nature  of  the  expedition,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  'Nassau'  voyage,  and  entitling  the  ad 
venturers  to  exemption  from  the  usual  formalities 
of  office ;  unexpected  events,  however,  rendered  these 
passports  superfluous. 

"The  inflation  was  commenced  very  quietly  at 
daybreak,  on  Saturday  morning,  the  6th  instant,  in 
the  courtyard  of  Weal-Vor  House,  Mr.  Osborne's 
seat,  about  a  mile  from  Penstruthal,  in  North  Wales ; 
and  at  seven  minutes  past  eleven,  everything  being 
ready  for  departure,  the  balloon  was  set  free,  rising 
gently  but  steadily,  in  a  direction  nearly  south;  no 
use  being  made,  for  the  first  half  hour,  of  either  the 
screw  or  the  rudder.  We  proceed  now  with  the 
journal,  as  transcribed  by  Mr.  Forsyth  from  the 
joint  MSS.  of  Mr.  Monck  Mason  and  Mr.  Ains- 
worth.  The  body  of  the  journal,  as  given,  is  in  the 
handwriting  of  Mr.  Mason,  and  a  P.  S.  is  appended 
each  day  by  Mr.  Ainsworth,  who  has  in  preparation 
and  will  shortly  give  the  public  a  more  minute  and, 
no  doubt,  a  thrillingly  interesting  account  of  the 
voyage. 

"THE  JOURNAL 

"Saturday,  April  the  6th. — Every  preparation 
likely  to  embarrass  us  having  been  made  overnight, 
we  commenced  the  inflation  this  morning  at  day- 


The   Balloon   Hoax  339 

break;  but  owing  to  a  thick  fog,  which  incumbered 
the  folds  of  the  silk  and  rendered  it  unmanageable, 
we  did  not  get  through  before  nearly  eleven  o'clock. 
Cut  loose  then,  in  high  spirits,  and  rose  gently  but 
steadily,  with  a  light  breeze  at  north,  which  bore  us 
in  the  direction  of  the  British  Channel.  Found  the 
ascending  force  greater  than  we  had  expected;  and 
as  we  arose  higher  and  so  got  clear  of  the  cliffs,  and 
more  in  the  sun's  rays,  our  ascent  became  very  rapid. 
I  did  not  wish,  however,  to  lose  gas  at  so  early  a 
period  of  the  adventure,  and  so  concluded  to  ascend 
for  the  present.  We  soon  ran  out  our  guide-rope ;  but 
even  when  we  had  raised  it  clear  of  the  earth,  we  still 
went  up  very  rapidly.  The  balloon  was  unusually 
steady,  and  looked  beautifully.  In  about  ten  min 
utes  after  starting,  the  barometer  indicated  an  alti 
tude  of  15,000  feet.  The  weather  was  remarkably 
fine,  and  the  view  of  the  subjacent  country — a  most 
romantic  one  when  seen  from  any  point — was  now 
especially  sublime.  The  numerous  deep  gorges  pre 
sented  the  appearance  of  lakes,  on  account  of  the 
dense  vapors  with  which  they  were  filled,  and  the 
pinnacles  and  crags  to  the  southeast,  piled  in  inex 
tricable  confusion,  resembled  nothing  so  much  as 
the  giant  cities  of  Eastern  fable.  We  were  rapidly 
approaching  the  mountains  in  the  south,  but  our  ele 
vation  was  more  than  sufficient  to  enable  us  to  pass 
them  in  safety.  In  a  few  minutes  we  soared  over 
them  in  fine  style ;  and  Mr.  Ainsworth,  with  the  sea- 


34-O        iWorks  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

men,  was  surprised  at  their  apparent  want  of  alti 
tude  when  viewed  from  the  car,  the  tendency  of 
great  elevation  in  a  balloon  being  to  reduce  inequali 
ties  of  the  surface  below  to  nearly  a  dead  level.  At 
half-past  eleven,  still  proceeding  nearly  south,  we  ob 
tained  our  first  view  of  the  Bristol  Channel,  and  in 
fifteen  minutes  afterward  the  line  of  breakers  on 
the  coast  appeared  immediately  beneath  us,  and  we 
were  fairly  out  at  sea.  We  now  resolved  to  let  off 
enough  gas  to  bring  our  guide-rope,  with  the  buoys 
affixed,  into  the  water.  This  was  immediately  done, 
and  we  commenced  a  gradual  descent.  In  about 
twenty  minutes  our  first  buoy  dipped,  and  at  the 
touch  of  the  second  soon  afterward,  we  remained 
stationary  as  to  elevation.  We  were  all  now  anxious 
to  test  the  efficiency  of  the  rudder  and  screw,  and  we 
put  them  both  into  requisition  forthwith,  for  the 
purpose  of  altering  our  direction  more  to  the  east 
ward,  and  in  a  line  for  Paris.  By  means  of  the 
rudder  we  instantly  effected  the  necessary  change 
of  direction,  and  our  course  was  brought  nearly  at 
right  angles  to  that  of  the  wind ;  when  we  set  in  mo 
tion  the  spring  of  the  screw,  and  were  rejoiced,  to 
find  it  propel  us  readily  as  desired.  Upon  this  we 
gave  nine  hearty  cheers,  and  dropped  in  the  sea  a 
bottle,  inclosing  a  slip  of  parchment  with  a  brief 
account  of  the  principle  of  the  invention.  Hardly, 
however,  had  we  done  with  our  rejoicings,  when  an 
unforeseen  accident  occurred  which  discouraged  us 


The   Balloon   Hoax  341 

in  no  little  degree.  The  steel  rod  connecting  the 
spring  with  the  propeller  was  suddenly  jerked  out  of 
place,  at  the  car  end  (by  a  swaying  of  the  car 
through  some  movement  of  one  of  the  two  seamen 
we  had  taken  up),  and  in  an  instant  hung  dangling 
out  of  reach,  from  the  pivot  of  the  axis  of  the  screw. 
While  we  were  endeavoring  to  regain  it,  our  atten 
tion  being  completely  absorbed,  we  became  involved 
in  a  strong  current  of  wind  from  the  east,  which 
bore  us,  with  rapidly  increasing  force,  toward  the 
Atlantic.  We  soon  found  ourselves  driving  out  to 
sea  at  the  rate  of  not  less,  certainly,  than  fifty  or 
sixty  miles  an  hour,  so  that  we  came  up  with  Cape 
Clear,  at  some  forty  miles  to  our  north,  before  we 
had  secured  the  rod,  and  had  time  to  think  what  we 
were  about.  It  was  now  that  Mr.  Ainsworth  made 
an  extraordinary  but,  to  my  fancy,  a  by  no  means 
unreasonable  or  chimerical  proposition,  in  which  he 
was  instantly  seconded  by  Mr.  Holland — viz. :  that 
we  should  take  advantage  of  the  strong  gale  which 
bore  us  on,  and  in  place  of  beating  back  to  Paris 
make  an  attempt  to  reach  the  coast  of  North  Amer 
ica.  After  slight  reflection,  I  gave  a  willing  assent 
to  this  bold  proposition,  which  (strange  to  say)  met 
with  objection  from  the  two  seamen  only.  As  the 
stronger  party,  however,  we  overruled  their  fears, 
and  kept  resolutely  upon  our  course.  We  steered 
due  west ;  but  as  the  trailing  of  the  buoys  materially 
impeded  our  progress,  and  we  had  the  balloon 


342        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

abundantly  at  command,  either  for  ascent  or  descent, 
we  first  threw  out  fifty  pounds  of  ballast,  and  then 
wound  up  (by  means  of  a  windlass)  so  much  of  the 
rope  as  brought  it  quite  clear  of  the  sea.  We  per 
ceived  the  effect  of  this  manoeuvre  immediately,  in  a 
vastly  increased  rate  of  progress;  and,  as  the  gale 
freshened,  we  flew  with  a  velocity  nearly  inconceiv 
able,  the  guide-rope  flying  out  behind  the  car  like 
a  streamer  from  a  vessel.  It  is  needless  to  say  that 
a  very  short  time  sufficed  us  to  lose  sight  of  the  coast. 
We  passed  over  innumerable  vessels  of  all  kinds,  a 
few  of  which  were  endeavoring  to  beat  up,  but  the 
most  of  them  lying  to.  We  occasioned  the  greatest 
excitement  on  board  all — an  excitement  greatly  rel 
ished  by  ourselves,  and  especially  by  our  two  men, 
who,  now  under  the  influence  of  a  dram  of  Geneva, 
seemed  resolved  to  give  all  scruple,  or  fear,  to  the 
wind.  Many  of  the  vessels  fired  signal  guns;  and  in 
all  we  were  saluted  with  loud  cheers  (which  we 
heard  with  surprising  distinctness)  and  the  wav 
ing  of  caps  and  handkerchiefs.  We  kept  on  in  this 
manner  throughout  the  day  with  no  material  inci 
dent,  and,  as  the  shades  of  night  closed  around  us, 
we  made  a  rough  estimate  of  the  distance  traversed. 
It  could  not  have  been  less  than  five  hundred  miles, 
and  was  probably  much  more.  The  propeller  was 
kept  in  constant  operation,  and,  no  doubt,  aided  our 
progress  materially.  As  the  sun  went  down,  the 
gale  freshened  into  an  absolute  hurricane,  and  the 


The   Balloon   Hoax  343 

ocean  beneath  was  clearly  visible  on  account  of  its 
phosphorescence.  The  wind  was  from  the  east  all 
night,  and  gave  us  the  brightest  omen  of  success. 
We  suffered  no  little  from  cold,  and  the  dampness  of 
the  atmosphere  was  most  unpleasant ;  but  the  ample 
space  in  the  car  enabled  us  to  lie  down,  and  by  means 
of  cloaks  and  a  few  blankets  we  did  sufficiently  well. 
"P.  S.  [by  Mr.  Ainsworth.]  The  last  nine  hours 
have  been  unquestionably  the  most  exciting  of  my 
life.  I  can  conceive  nothing  more  sublimating  than 
the  strange  peril  and  novelty  of  an  adventure  such 
as  this.  May  God  grant  that  we  succeed !  I  ask  not 
success  for  mere  safety  to  my  insignificant  person, 
but  for  the  sake  of  human  knowledge  and — for  the 
vastness  of  the  triumph.  And  yet  the  feat  is  only  so 
evidently  feasible  that  the  sole  wonder  is  why  men 
have  scrupled  to  attempt  it  before.  One  single  gale 
such  as  now  befriends  us — let  such  a  tempest  whirl 
forward  a  balloon  for  four  of  five  days  (these  gales 
often  last  longer)  and  the  voyager  will  be  easily 
borne,  in  that  period,  from  coast  to  coast.  In  view 
of  such  a  gale  the  broad  Atlantic  becomes  a  mere 
lake.  I  am  more  struck,  just  now,  with  the  supreme 
silence  which  reigns  in  the  sea  beneath  us,  notwith 
standing  its  agitation,  than  with  any  other  phe 
nomenon  presenting  itself.  The  waters  give  up  no 
voice  to  the  heavens.  The  immense  flaming  ocean 
writhes  and  is  tortured  uncomplainingly.  The  moun 
tainous  surges  suggest  the  idea  of  innumerable 


344        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

dumb  gigantic  fiends  struggling  in  impotent  agony. 
In  a  night  such  as  is  this  to  me,  a  man  lives — lives 
a  whole  century  of  ordinary  life — nor  would  I  fore 
go  this  rapturous  delight  for  that  of  a  whole  century 
of  ordinary  existence. 

"Sunday,  the  7th.  [Mr.  Mason's  MS.]  This 
morning  the  gale,  by  ten,  had  subsided  to  an  eight 
or  nine  knot  breeze  (for  a  vessel  at  sea),  and  bears 
us,  perhaps,  thirty  miles  per  hour,  or  more.  It  has 
veered,  however,  very  considerably  to  the  north ;  and 
now,  at  sundown,  we  are  holding  our  course  due 
west,  principally  by  the  screw  and  rudder,  which 
answer  their  purposes  to  admiration.  I  regard  the 
project  as  thoroughly  successful,  and  the  easy  navi 
gation  of  the  air  in  any  direction  (not  exactly  in  the 
teeth  of  a  gale)  as  no  longer  problematical.  We 
could  not  have  made  head  against  the  strong  wind 
of  yesterday;  but,  by  ascending,  we  might  have  got 
out  of  its  influence,  if  requisite.  Against  a  pretty 
stiff  breeze,  I  feel  convinced,  we  can  make  our  way 
with  the  propeller.  At  noon,  to-day,  ascended  to  an 
elevation  of  nearly  25,000  feet,  by  discharging  bal 
last.  Did  this  to  search  for  a  more  direct  current, 
but  found  none  so  favorable  as  the  one  we  are  now 
in.  We  have  an  abundance  of  gas  to  take  us  across 
this  small  pond,  even  should  the  voyage  last  three 
weeks.  I  have  not  the  slightest  fear  for  the  result. 
The  difficulty  has  been  strangely  exaggerated  and 
misapprehended.  I  can  choose  my  current,  and 


The   Balloon   Hoax  345 

should  I  find  all  currents  against  me,  I  can  make  very 
tolerable  headway  with  the  propeller.  We  have  had 
no  incidents  worth  recording.  The  night  promises 
fair. 

"P.  S.  [By  Mr.  Ainsworth.]  I  have  little  to  re 
cord,  except  the  fact  (to  me  quite  a  surprising  orfe) 
that,  at  an  elevation  equal  to  that  of  Cotopaxi,  I  ex 
perienced  neither  very  intense  cold,  nor  headache, 
nor  difficulty  of  breathing;  neither,  I  find,  did  Mr. 
Mason,  nor  Mr.  Holland,  nor  Sir  Everard.  Mr.  Os- 
borne  complained  of  constriction  of  the  chest — but 
this  soon  wore  off.  We  have  flown  at  a  great  rate 
during  the  day,  and  we  must  be  more  than  half  way 
across  the  Atlantic.  We  have  passed  over  some 
twenty  or  thirty  vessels  of  various  kinds,  and  all 
seem  to  be  delightfully  astonished.  Crossing  the 
ocean  in  a  balloon  is  not  so  difficult  a  feat  after  all. 
Omne  ignotum  pro  magnifico.  Mem. :  at  25,000  feet 
elevation  the  sky  appears  nearly  black,  and  the  stars 
are  distinctly  visible;  while  the  sea  does  not  seem 
convex  (as  one  might  suppose)  but  absolutely  and 
most  unequivocally  concave.* 

*  "Note. — Mr.  Ainsworth  has  not  attempted  to  account  for 
this  phenomenon,  which,  however,  is  quite  susceptible  of  ex 
planation.  A  line  dropped  from  an  elevation  of  25,000  feet, 
perpendicularly  to  the  surface  of  the  earth  (or  sea),  would 
form  the  perpendicular  of  a  right-angled  triangle,  of  which  the 
base  would  extend  from  the  right  angle  to  the  horizon,  and  the 
hypothenuse  from  the  horizon  to  the  balloon.  But  the  25,000 
feet  of  altitude  is  little  or  nothing,  in  comparison  with  the 
extent  of  the  prospect.  In  other  words,  the  base  and  hypoth«- 


346        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

"Monday,  the  8th.  [Mr.  Mason's  MS.]  This 
mottling  we  had  again  some  little  trouble  with  the 
rod  of  the  propeller,  which  must  be  entirely  remod 
elled,  for  fear  of  serious  accident — I  mean  the  steel 
rod,  not  the  vanes.  The  latter  could  not  be  im 
proved.  The  wind  has  been  blowing  steadily  and 
strongly  from  the  northeast  all  day ;  and  so  far  for 
tune  seems  bent  upon  favoring  us.  Just  before  day, 
we  were  all  somewhat  alarmed  at  some  odd  noises 
and  concussions  in  the  balloon,  accompanied  with  the 
apparent  rapid  subsidence  of  the  whole  machine. 
These  phenomena  were  occasioned  by  the  expansion 
of  the  gas,  through  increase  of  heat  in  the  atmos 
phere,  and  the  consequent  disruption  of  the  minute 
particles  of  ice  with  which  the  network  had  become 
incrusted  during  the  night.  Threw  down  several 
bottles  to  the  vessels  below.  See  one  of  them  picked 
up  by  a  large  ship — seemingly  one  of  the  New  York 
line  packets.  Endeavored  to  make  out  her  name,  but 
could  not  be  sure  of  it.  Mr.  Osborne's  telescope 


nuse  of  the  supposed  triangle  would  be  so  long,  when  com 
pared  with  the  perpendicular,  that  the  two  former  may  be 
regarded  as  nearly  parallel.  In  this  manner  the  horizon  of 
the  aeronaut  would  appear  to  be  on  a  level  with  the  car.  But, 
as  the  point  immediately  beneath  him  seems,  and  is,  at  a  great 
distance  below  him,  it  seems,  of  course,  also,  at  a  great  dis 
tance  below  the  horizon.  Hence  the  impression  of  concavity; 
and  this  impression  must  remain,  until  the  elevation  shall  bear 
so  great  a  proportion  to  the  extent  of  prospect,  that  the  appa 
rent  parallelism  of  the  base  and  hypothenuse  disappears — when 
the  earth's  convexity  must  become  apparent 


The   Balloon   Hoax  347 

made  it  out  something  like  'Atalanta.'  It  is  now 
twelve  at  night,  and  we  are  still  going  nearly  west,  at 
a  rapid  pace.  The  sea  is  peculiarly  phosphorescent. 

"P.  S.  [By  Mr.  Ainsworth.]  It  is  now  2  A.  M., 
and  nearly  calm,  as  well  as  I  can  judge — but  it  is 
very  difficult  to  determine  this  point,  since  we  move 
with  the  air  so  completely.  I  have  not  slept  since 
quitting  Wheal-Vor,  but  can  stand  it  no  longer,  and 
must  take  a  nap.  We  cannot  be  far  from  the  Ameri 
can  coast. 

"Tuesday,  the  pth.  [Mr.  Ainsworth's  MS.]  One 
Y.  M.  We  are  in  full  view  of  the  low  coast  of  South 
Carolina.  The  great  problem  is  accomplished.  We 
have  crossed  the  Atlantic — fairly  and  easily  crossed 
it  in  a  balloon !  God  be  praised !  Who  shall  say  that 
anything  is  impossible  hereafter  ?" 

The  Journal  here  ceases.  Some  particulars  of  the 
descent  were  communicated,  however,  by  Mr.  Ains 
worth  to  Mr.  Forsyth.  It  was  nearly  dead  calm 
when  the  voyagers  first  came  in  view  of  the  coast, 
which  was  immediately  recognized  by  both  the  sea 
men,  and  by  Mr.  Osborne.  The  latter  gentleman 
having  acquaintances  at  Fort  Moultrie,  it  was  imme 
diately  resolved  to  descend  in  its  vicinity.  The  bal 
loon  was  brought  over  the  beach  (the  tide  being  out 
and  the  sand  hard,  smooth,  and  admirably  adapted 
for  a  descent),  and  the  grapnel  let  go,  which  took 
firm  hold  at  once.  The  inhabitants  of  the  island, 
and  of  the  fort,  thronged  out,  of  course,  to  see  the 


348        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

balloon;  but  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that 
any  one  could  be  made  to  credit  the  actual  voyage 
— the  crossing  of  the  Atlantic.  The  grapnel  caught 
at  two  P.M.  precisely;  and  thus  the  whole  voyage 
was  completed  in  seventy-five  hours;  or  rather  less, 
counting  from  shore  to  shore.  No  serious  accident 
occurred.  No  real  danger  was  at  any  time  appre 
hended.  The  balloon  was  exhausted  and  secured 
without  trouble;  and  when  the  MS.  from  which  this 
narrative  is  compiled  was  despatched  from  Charles 
ton,  the  party  were  still  at  Fort  Moultrie.  Their 
further  intentions  were  not  ascertained;  but  we  can 
safely  promise  our  readers  some  additional  informa 
tion  either  on  Monday  or  in  the  course  of  the  next 
day,  at  furthest. 

This  is  unquestionably  the  most  stupendous,  the 
most  interesting,  and  the  most  important  undertak 
ing  ever  accomplished  or  even  attempted  by  man. 
What  magnificent  events  may  ensue,  it  would  be 
useless  now  to  think  of  determining. 


MS.  FOUND  IN  A  BOTTLE 

Qui  n'a  plus  qu'un  moment  a  vivre 
N'a  plus  rien  a  dissimuler. 

— Quinault — A  tys 

OF  my  country  and  of  my  family  I  have  little  to 
say.  Ill  usage  and  length  of  years  have 
driven  me  from  the  one,  and  estranged  me  from  the 
other.  Hereditary  wealth  afforded  me  an  education 
of  no  common  order,  and  a  contemplative  turn  of 
mind  enabled  me  to  methodize  the  stores  which  early 
study  diligently  garnered  up.  Beyond  all  things,  the 
works  of  the  German  moralists  gave  me  great  de 
light;  not  from  my  ill-advised  admiration  of  their 
eloquent  madness,  but  from  the  ease  with  which  my 
habits  of  rigid  thoughts  enabled  me  to  detect  their 
falsities.  I  have  often  been  reproached  with  the  arid 
ity  of  my  genius ;  a  deficiency  of  imagination  has  been 
imputed  to  me  as  a  crime;  and  the  Pyrrhonism  of 
my  opinions  has  at  all  times  rendered  me  notorious. 
Indeed,  a  strong  relish  for  physical  philosophy  has,  I 
fear,  tinctured  my  mind  with  a  very  common  error 
of  this  age — I  mean  the  habit  of  referring  occur 
rences,  even  the  least  susceptible  of  such  reference, 
to  the  principles  of  that  science.  Upon  the  whole, 
no  person  could  be  less  liable  than  myself  to  be  led 
away  from  the  severe  precincts  of  truth  by  the  ignes 

(349) 


350        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

fatui  of  superstition.  I  have  thought  proper  to 
premise  thus  much,  lest  the  incredible  tale  I  have  to 
tell  should  be  considered  rather  the  raving  of  a  crude 
imagination  than  the  positive  experience  of  a  mind 
to  which  the  reveries  of  fancy  have  been  a  dead  letter 
and  a  nullity. 

After  many  years  spent  in  foreign  travel,  I  sailed 
in  the  year  18 — ,  from  the  port  of  Batavia,  in  the  rich 
and  populous  island  of  Java,  on  a  voyage  to  the 
Archipelago  Islands.  I  went  as  passenger — having 
no  other  inducement  than  a  kind  of  nervous  restless 
ness  which  haunted  me  as  a  fiend. 

Our  vessel  was  a  beautiful  ship  of  about  four  hun 
dred  tons,  copper-fastened,  and  built  at  Bombay  of 
Malabar  teak.  She  was  freighted  with  cotton-wool 
and  oil,  from  the  Lachadive  Islands.  We  had  also 
on  board  coir,  jaggeree,  ghee,  cocoanuts,  and  a  few 
cases  of  opium.  The  stowage  was  clumsily  done, 
and  the  vessel  consequently  crank. 

We  got  under  way  with  a  mere  breath  of  wind, 
and  for  many  days  stood  along  the  eastern  coast  of 
Java,  without  any  other  incident  to  beguile  the  mo 
notony  of  our  course  than  the  occasional  meeting 
with  some  of  the  small  grabs  of  the  archipelago  to 
which  we  were  bound. 

One  evening,  leaning  over  the  taffrail,  I  observed 
a  very  singular  isolated  cloud,  to  the  N.W.  It  was 
remarkable,  as  well  from  its  color  as  from  its  being 
the  first  we  had  seen  since  our  departure  from  Ba- 


MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle  351 

tavia.  I  watched  it  attentively  until  sunset,  when  it 
spread  all  at  once  to  the  eastward  and  westward, 
girting  in  the  horizon  with  a  narrow  strip  of  vapor, 
and  looking  like  a  long  line  of  low  beach.  My  no 
tice  was  soon  afterward  attracted  by  the  dusky-red 
appearance  of  the  moon,  and  the  peculiar  character  of 
the  sea.  The  latter  was  undergoing  a  rapid  change, 
and  the  water  seemed  more  than  usually  transparent. 
Although  I  could  distinctly  see  the  bottom,  yet,  heav 
ing  the  lead,  I  found  the  ship  in  fifteen  fathoms.  The 
air  now  became  intolerably  hot,  and  was  loaded  with 
spiral  exhalations  similar  to  those  arising  from 
heated  iron.  As  night  came  on,  every  breath  of 
wind  died  away,  and  a  more  entire  calm  it  is  impos 
sible  to  conceive.  The  flame  of  a  candle  burned 
upon  the  poop  without  the  least  perceptible  motion, 
and  a  long  hair,  held  between  the  finger  and  thumb, 
hung  without  the  possibility  of  detecting  a  vibration. 
However,  as  the  captain  said  he  could  perceive  no 
indication  of  danger,  and  as  we  were  drifting  in  bod 
ily  to  shore,  he  ordered  the  sails  to  be  furled,  and  the 
anchor  let  go.  No  watch  was  set,  and  the  crew,  con 
sisting  principally  of  Malays,  stretched  themselves 
deliberately  upon  deck.  I  went  below — not  without 
a  full  presentiment  of  evil.  Indeed,  every  appear 
ance  warranted  me  in  apprehending  a  simoon.  I 
told  the  captain  of  my  fears ;  but  he  paid  no  attention 
to  what  I  said,  and  left  me  without  deigning  to  give 
a  reply.  My  uneasiness,  however,  prevented  me  from 


352        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

sleeping,  and  about  midnight  I  went  up  on  deck. 
As  I  placed  my  foot  upon  the  upper  step  of  the  com 
panion-ladder,  I  was  startled  by  a  loud,  humming 
noise,  like  that  occasioned  by  the  rapid  revolution  of 
a  mill-wheel,  and  before  I  could  ascertain  its  mean 
ing  I  found  the  ship  quivering  to  its  centre.  In  the 
next  instant  a  wilderness  of  foam  hurled  us  upon  our 
beam-ends,  and,  rushing  over  us  afore  and  aft,  swept 
the  entire  decks  from  stem  to  stern. 

The  extreme  fury  of  the  blast  proved,  in  a  great 
measure,  the  salvation  of  the  ship.  Although  com 
pletely  waterlogged,  yet,  as  her  masts  had  gone  by 
the  board,  she  rose,  after  a  minute,  heavily  from  the 
sea,  and,  staggering  awhile  beneath  the  immense 
pressure  of  the  tempest,  finally  righted. 

By  what  miracle  I  escaped  destruction,  it  is  im 
possible  to  say.  Stunned  by  the  shock  of  the  water, 
I  found  myself,  upon  recovery,  jammed  in  between 
the  stern-post  and  rudder.  With  great  difficulty  I 
regained  my  feet,  and  looking  dizzily  around,  was 
at  first  struck  with  the  idea  of  our  being  among 
breakers ;  so  terrific,  beyond  the  wildest  imagination, 
was  the  whirlpool  of  mountainous  and  foaming 
ocean  within  which  we  were  ingulfed.  Softer  a 
while  I  heard  the  voice  of  an  old  Swede,  who  had 
shipped  with  us  at  the  moment  of  leaving  port.  I 
halloed  to  him  with  all  my  strength,  and  presently 
he  came  reeling  aft.  We  soon  discovered  that  we 
were  the  sole  survivors  of  the  accident.  All  on  deck, 


MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle  353 

with  the  exception  of  ourselves,  had  been  swept  over 
board;  the  captain  and  mates  must  have  perished 
while  they  slept,  for  the  cabins  were  deluged  with 
water.  Without  assistance  we  could  expect  to  do 
little  for  the  security  of  the  ship,  and  our  exertions 
were  at  first  paralyzed  by  the  momentary  expectation 
of  going  down.  Our  cable  had,  of  course,  parted 
like  pack-thread,  at  the  first  breath  of  the  hurricane, 
or  we  should  have  been  instantaneously  over 
whelmed.  We  scudded  with  frightful  velocity  be 
fore  the  sea,  and  the  water  made  clear  breaches  over 
us.  The  framework  of  our  stern  was  shattered  ex 
cessively,  and,  in  almost  every  respect,  we  had  re 
ceived  considerable  injury;  but  to  our  extreme  joy 
we  found  the  pumps  unchoked,  and  that  we  had  made 
no  great  shifting  of  our  ballast.  The  main  fury  of 
the  blast  had  already  blown  over,  and  we  appre 
hended  little  danger  from  the  violence  of  the  wind ; 
but  we  looked  forward  to  its  total  cessation  with  dis 
may,  well  believing  that  in  our  shattered  condition 
we  should  inevitably  perish  in  the  tremendous  swell 
which  would  ensue.  But  this  very  just  apprehension 
seemed  by  no  means  likely  to  be  soon  verified.  For 
five  entire  days  and  nights — during  which  our  only 
subsistence  was  a  small  quantity  of  jaggeree,  pro 
cured  with  great  difficulty  from  the  forecastle — the 
hulk  flew  at  a  rate  defying  computation,  before  rap 
idly  succeeding  flaws  of  wind,  which,  without  equal 
ling  the  first  violence  of  the  simoon,  were  still  more 


354        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

terrific  than  any  tempest  I  had  before  encountered. 
Our  course  for  the  first  four  days  was,  with  trifling 
variations,  S.E.  and  by  S. ;  and  we  must  have  run 
down  the  coast  of  New  Holland.  On  the  fifth  day 
the  cold  became  extreme,  although  the  wind  had 
hauled  round  a  point  more  to  the  northward.  The 
sun  arose  with  a  sickly  yellow  lustre,  and  clambered 
a  very  few  degrees  above  the  horizon — emitting  no 
decisive  light.  There  were  no  clouds  apparent,  yet 
the  wind  was  upon  the  increase,  and  blew  with  a  fit 
ful  and  unsteady  fury.  About  noon,  as  nearly  as  we 
could  guess,  our  attention  was  again  arrested  by  the 
appearance  of  the  sun.  It  gave  out  no  light,  properly 
so  called,  but  a  dull  and  sullen  glow  without  reflec 
tion,  as  if  all  its  rays  were  polarized.  Just  before 
sinking  within  the  turgid  sea,  its  central  fires  sud 
denly  went  out,  as  if  hurriedly  extinguished  by  some 
unaccountable  power.  It  was  a  dim,  silver-like  rim, 
alone,  as  it  rushed  down  the  unfathomable  ocean. 

We  waited  in  vain  for  the  arrival  of  the  sixth  day 
— that  day  to  me  has  not  yet  arrived — to  the  Swede 
never  did  arrive.  Thenceforward  we  were  en 
shrouded  in  pitchy  darkness,  so  that  we  could  not 
have  seen  an  object  at  twenty  paces  from  the  ship. 
Eternal  night  continued  to  envelop  us,  all  unrelieved 
by  the  phosphoric  sea-brilliancy  to  which  we  had 
been  accustomed  in  the  tropics.  We  observed,  too, 
that,  although  the  tempest  continued  to  rage  with 
unabated  violence,  there  was  no  longer  to  be  discov- 


MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle  355 

ered  the  usual  appearance  of  surf,  or  foam,  which 
had  hitherto  attended  us.  All  around  were  horror, 
and  thick  gloom,  and  a  black  sweltering  desert  of 
ebony.  Superstitious  terror  crept  by  degrees  into 
the  spirit  of  the  old  Swede,  and  my  own  soul  was 
wrapped  in  silent  wonder.  We  neglected  all  care 
of  the  ship,  as  worse  than  useless,  and  securing  our 
selves  as  well  as  possible  to  the  stump  of  the  mizzen- 
mast,  looked  out  bitterly  into  the  world  of  ocean. 
We  had  no  means  of  calculating  time,  nor  could  we 
form  any  guess  of  our  situation.  We  were,  how 
ever,  well  aware  of  having  made  further  to  the  south 
ward  than  any  previous  navigators,  and  felt  great 
amazement  at  not  meeting  with  the  usual  impedi 
ments  of  ice.  In  the  meantime  every  moment  threat 
ened  to  be  our  last— every  mountainous  billow  hur 
ried  to  overwhelm  us.  The  swell  surpassed  anything 
I  had  imagined  possible,  and  that  we  were  not  in 
stantly  buried  is  a  miracle.  My  companion  spoke  of 
the  lightness  of  our  cargo,  and  reminded  me  of  the 
excellent  qualities  of  our  ship;  but  I  could  not  help 
feeling  the  utter  hopelessness  of  hope  itself,  and  pre 
pared  myself  gloomily  for  that  death  which  I 
thought  nothing  could  defer  beyond  an  hour,  as,  with 
every  knot  of  way  the  ship  made,  the  swelling  of  the 
black  stupendous  seas  became  more  dismally  appall 
ing.  At  times  we  gasped  for  breath  at  an  elevation 
beyond  the  albatross — at  times  became  dizzy  with 
the  velocity  of  our  descent  into  some  watery  hell, 


356        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

where  the  air  grew  stagnant,  and  no  sound  disturbed1 
the  slumbers  of  the  kraken. 

We  were  at  the  bottom  of  one  of  these  abysses, 
when  a  quick  scream  from  my  companion  broke  fear 
fully  upon  the  night.  "See !  see !"  cried  he,  shriek 
ing  in  my  ears,  "Almighty  God !  see !  see !"  As  he 
spoke  I  became  aware  of  a  dull  sullen  glare  of  red 
light  which  streamed  down  the  sides  of  the  vast 
chasm  where  we  lay,  and  threw  a  fitful  brilliancy 
upon  our  deck.  Casting  my  eyes  upward,  I  beheld 
a  spectacle  which  froze  the  current  of  my  blood.  At 
a  terrific  height  directly  above  us,  and  upon  the  very 
verge  of  the  precipitous  descent,  hovered  a  gigantic 
ship  of  perhaps  four*  thousand  tons.  Although  up- 
reared  upon  the  summit  of  a  wave  more  than  a  hun 
dred  times  her  own  altitude,  her  apparent  size  still 
exceeded  that  of  any  ship  of  the  line  or  East  India- 
,man  in  existence.  Her  huge  hull  was  of  a  deep 
dingy  black,  unrelieved  by  any  of  the  customary 
carvings  of  a  ship.  A  single  row  of  brass  cannon 
protruded  from  her  open  ports,  and  dashed  from  the 
polished  surfaces  the  fires  of  innumerable  battle-lan 
terns  which  swung  to  and  fro  about  her  rigging. 
But  what  mainly  inspired  us  with  horror  and  aston 
ishment  was  that  she  bore  up  under  a  press  of  sail 
in  the  very  teeth  of  that  supernatural  sea,  and  of  that 
ungovernable  hurricane.  When  we  first  discovered 
her,  her  bows  were  alone  to  be  seen,  as  she  rose 
slowly  from  the  dim  and  horrible  gulf  beyond  her. 


MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle  357 

For  a  moment  of  intense  terror  she  paused  upon  the 
giddy  pinnacle  as  if  in  contemplation  of  her  own 
sublimity,  then  trembled,  and  tottered,  and — came 
down. 

At  this  instant,  I  know  not  what  sudden  self-pos 
session  came  over  my  spirit.  Staggering  as  far  aft 
as  I  could,  I  awaited  fearlessly  the  ruin  that  was  to 
overwhelm.  Our  own  vessel  was  at  length  ceasing 
from  her  struggles,  and  sinking  with  her  head  to  the 
sea.  The  shock  of  the  descending  mass  struck  her, 
consequently,  in  that  portion  of  her  frame  which  was 
nearly  under  water,  and  the  inevitable  result  was  to 
hurl  me,  with  irresistible  violence,  upon  the  rigging 
of  the  stranger. 

As  I  fell,  the  ship  hove  in  stays,  and  went  about ; 
and  to  the  confusion  ensuing  I  attributed  my  escape 
from  the  notice  of  the  crew.  With  little  difficulty 
I  made  my  way,  unperceived,  to  the  main  hatchway, 
which  was  partially  open,  and  soon  found  an  oppor 
tunity  of  secreting  myself  in  the  hold.  Why  I  did 
so  I  can  hardly  tell.  An  indefinite  sense  of  awe, 
which  at  first  sight  of  the  navigators  of  the  ship  had 
taken  hold  of  my  mind,  was  perhaps  the  principle  of 
my  concealment.  I  was  unwilling  to  trust  myself 
with  a  race  of  people  who  had  offered,  to  the  cursory 
glance  I  had  taken,  so  many  points  of  vague  novelty, 
doubt,  and  apprehension.  I  therefore  thought  proper 
to  contrive  a  hiding-place  in  the  hold.  This  I  did  by 
removing  a  small  portion  of  the  shifting-boards  in 


358        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

such  a  manner  as  to  afford  me  a  convenient  retreat 
between  the  huge  timbers  of  the  ship. 

I  had  scarcely  completed  my  work,  when  a  foot 
step  in  the  hold  forced  me  to  make  use  of  it.  A  man 
passed  by  my  place  of  concealment  with  a  feeble  and 
unsteady  gait.  I  could  not  see  his  face,  but  had  an 
opportunity  of  observing  his  general  appearance. 
There  was  about  it  an  evidence  of  great  age  and  in 
firmity.  His  knees  tottered  beneath  a  load  of  years, 
and  his  entire  frame  quivered  under  the  burden.  He 
muttered  to  himself,  in  a  low  broken  tone,  some 
words  of  a  language  which  I  could  not  understand, 
and  groped  in  a  corner  among  a  pile  of  singular- 
looking  instruments,  and  decayed  charts  of  naviga 
tion.  His  manner  was  a  wild  mixture  of  the  peev 
ishness  of  second  childhood,  and  the  solemn  dignity 
of  a  god.  He  at  length  went  on  deck,  and  I  saw 
him  no  more. 

A  feeling,  for  which  I  have  no  name,  has  taken 
possession  of  my  soul — a  sensation  which  will  admit 
of  no  analysis,  to  which  the  lessons  of  bygone  time 
are  inadequate,  and  for  which  I  fear  futurity  itself 
will  offer  me  no  key.  To  a  mind  constituted  like  my 
own,  the  latter  consideration  is  an  evil.  I  shall 
never — I  know  that  I  shall  never — be  satisfied  with 
regard  to  the  nature  of  my  conceptions.  Yet  it  is 
not  wonderful  that  these  conceptions  are  indefinite, 
since  they  have  their  origin  in  sources  so  utterly 


MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle  359 

novel.     A  new  sense — a  new  entity  is  added  to  my 
soul. 

It  is  long  since  I  first  trod  the  deck  of  this  terrible 
ship,  and  the  rays  of  my  destiny  are,  I  think,  gather 
ing  to  a  focus.  Incomprehensible  men!  Wrapped 
up  in  meditations  of  a  kind  which  I  can  not  divine, 
they  pass  me  by  unnoticed.  Concealment  is  utter 
folly  on  my  part,  for  the  people  will  not  see.  It  is 
but  just  now  that  I  passed  directly  before  the  eyes  of 
the  mate;  it  was  no  long  while  ago  that  I  ventured 
into  the  captain's  own^private  cabin,  and  took  thence 
the  materials  with  which  I  write,  and  have  written. 
I  shall  from  time  to  time  continue  this  journal.  It 
is  true  that  I  may  not  find  an  opportunity  of  trans 
mitting  it  to  the  world,  but  I  will  not  fail  to  make  the 
endeavor.  At  the  last  moment  I  will  inclose  the 
MS.  in  a  bottle,  and  cast  it  within  the  sea. 

An  incident  has  occurred  which  has  given  me  new 
room  for  meditation.  Are  such  things  the  operation 
of  ungoverned  chance?  I  had  ventured  upon  deck 
and  thrown  myself  down,  without  attracting  any  no 
tice,  among  a  pile  of  ratlin-stuff  and  old  sails  in  the 
bottom  of  the  yawl.  While  musing  upon  the  singu 
larity  of  my  fate,  I  unwittingly  daubed  with  a  tar 
brush  the  edges  of  a  neatly-folded  studding-sail 
which  lay  near  me  on  a  barrel.  The  studding-sail 
is  now  bent  upon  the  ship,  and  the  thoughtless 


360        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

touches  of  the  brush  are  spread  out  into  the  word 
DISCOVERY. 

I  have  made  my  observations  lately  upon  the 
structure  of  the  vessel.  Although  well  armed,  she  is 
not,  I  think,  a  ship  of  war.  Her  rigging,  build  and 
general  equipment  all  negative  a  supposition  of  this 
kind.  What  she  is  not,  I  can  easily  perceive;  what 
she  is,  I  fear  it  is  impossible  to  say.  I  know  not 
how  it  is,  but  in  scrutinizing  her  strange  model  and 
singular  cast  of  spars,  her  huge  size  and  overgrown 
suits  of  canvas,  her  severely  simple  bow  and  anti 
quated  stern,  there  will  occasionally  flash  across  my 
mind  a  sensation  of  familiar  things,  and  there  is  al 
ways  mixed  up  with  such  indistinct  shadows  of  rec 
ollection,  an  unaccountable  memory  of  old  foreign 
chronicles  and  ages  long  ago. 

I  have  been  looking  at  the  timbers  of  the  ship. 
She  is  built  of  a  material  to  which  I  am  a  stranger. 
There  is  a  peculiar  character  about  the  wood  which 
strikes  me  as  rendering  it  unfit  for  the  purpose  to 
which  it  has  been  applied.  I  mean  its  extreme  por 
ousness,  considered  independently  of  the  worm-eaten 
condition  which  is  a  consequence  of  navigation  in 
these  seas,  and  apart  from  the  rottenness  attendant 
upon  age.  It  will  appear  perhaps  an  observation 
somewhat  over  curious,  but  this  would  have  every 
characteristic  of  Spanish  oak,  if  Spanish  oak  were 
distended  by  any  unnatural  means. 


MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle  361 

In  reading  the  above  sentence,  a  curious  apothegm 
oi  an  old  weather-beaten  Dutch  navigator  comes  full 
upon  my  recollection.  "It  is  as  sure,"  he  was  wont 
to  say,  when  any  doubt  was  entertained  of  his  verac 
ity,  "as  sure  as  there  is  a  sea  where  the  ship  itself 
will  grow  in  bulk  like  the  living  body  of  the  sea- 


About  an  hour  ago,  I  made  bold  to  trust  myself 
among  a  group  of  the  crew.  They  paid  no  manner 
of  attention,  and,  although  I  stood  in  the  very  midst 
of  them  all,  seemed  utterly  unconscious  of  my  pres 
ence.  Like  the  one  I  had  at  first  seen  in  the  hold, 
they  all  bore  about  them  the  marks  of  a  hoary  old 
age.  Their  knees  trembled  with  infirmity;  their 
shoulders  were  bent  double  with  decrepitude;  their 
shrivelled  skins  rattled  in  the  wind ;  their  voices  were 
low,  tremulous,  and  broken ;  their  eyes  glistened  with 
the  rheum  of  years;  and  their  gray  hairs  streamed 
terribly  in  the  tempest.  Around  them,  on  every  part 
of  the  deck,  lay  scattered  mathematical  instruments 
of  the  most  quaint  and  obsolete  construction. 

I  mentioned,  some  time  ago,  the  bending  of  a 
studding-sail.  From  that  period,  the  ship,  being 
thrown  dead  off  the  wind,  has  continued  her  terrific 
course  due  south,  with  every  rag  of  canvas  packed 
upon  her,  from  her  truck  to  her  lower  studding-sail 
booms,  and  rolling  every  moment  her  top-gallant 

I-Poc-16 


362        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

yard-arms  into  the  most  appalling  hell  of  water 
which  it  can  enter  into  the  mind  of  man  to  imagine. 
I  have  just  left  the  deck,  where  I  find  it  impossible  to 
maintain  a  footing,  although  the  crew  seem  to  expe 
rience  little  inconvenience.  It  appears  to  me  a  mir 
acle  of  miracles  that  our  enormous  bulk  is  not  swal 
lowed  up  at  once  and  forever.  We  are  surely 
doomed  to  hover  continually  upon  the  brink  of  eter 
nity,  without  taking  a  final  plunge  into  the  abyss. 
From  billows  a  thousand  times  more  stupendous 
than  any  I  have  ever  seen,  we  glide  away  with  the 
facility  of  the  arrowy  sea-gull ;  and  the  colossal  wa 
ters  rear  their  heads  above  us  like  demons  of  the 
deep,  but  like  demons  confined  to  simple  threats,  and 
forbidden  to  destroy.  I  am  led  to  attribute  these  fre 
quent  escapes  to  the  only  natural  cause  which  can 
account  for  such  effect.  I  must  suppose  the  ship  to 
be  within  the  influence  of  some  strong  current,  or 
impetuous  undertow. 

I  have  seen  the  captain  face  to  face,  and  in  his  own 
cabin — but,  as  I  expected,  he  paid  me  no  attention. 
Although  in  his  appearance  there  is,  to  a  casual  ob 
server,  nothing  which  might  bespeak  him  more  or 
less  than  man,  still,  a  feeling  of  irrepressible  rever 
ence  and  awe  mingled  with  the  sensation  of  wonder 
with  which  I  regarded  him.  In  stature,  he  is  nearly 
my  own  height ;  that  is,  about  five  feet  eight  inches. 
He  is  of  a  well-knit  and  compact  frame  of  body, 


MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle  363 

neither  robust  nor  remarkable  otherwise.  But  it  is 
the  singularity  of  the  expression  which  reigns  upon 
the  face — it  is  the  intense,  the  wonderful,  the  thrill 
ing  evidence  of  old  age  so  utter,  so  extreme,  which 
excites  within  my  spirit  a  sense — a  sentiment  ineffa 
ble.  His  forehead,  although  little  wrinkled,  seems 
to  bear  upon  it  the  stamp  of  a  myriad  of  years.  His 
gray  hairs  are  records  of  the  past,  and  his  grayer 
eyes  are  sibyls  of  the  future.  The  cabin  floor  was 
thickly  strewn  with  strange,  iron-clasped  folios,  and 
mouldering  instruments  of  science,  and  obsolete, 
long-forgotten  charts.  His  head  was  bowed  down 
upon  his  hands,  and  he  pored,  with  a  fiery,  unquiet 
eye,  over  a  paper  which  I  took  to  be  a  commission, 
and  which,  at  all  events,  bore  the  signature  of  a  mon 
arch.  He  murmured  to  himself — as  did  the  first 
seaman  whom  I  saw  in  the  hold — some  low  peevish 
syllables  of  a  foreign  tongue;  and  although  the 
speaker  was  close  at  my  elbow,  his  voice  seemed  to 
reach  my  ears  from  the  distance  of  a  mile. 


The  ship  and  all  in  it  are  imbued  with  the  spirit 
of  Eld.  The  crew  glide  to  and  fro  like  the  ghosts  of 
buried  centuries ;  their  eyes  have  an  eager  and  uneasy 
meaning;  and  when  their  figures  fall  athwart  my 
path  in  the  wild  glare  of  the  battle-lanterns,  I  feel 
as  I  have  never  felt  before,  although  I  have  been  all 
my  life  a  dealer  in  antiquities,  and  have  imbibed  the 


364        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

shadows  of  fallen  columns  at  Balbec,  and  Tadmor, 
and  Persepolis,  until  my  very  soul  has  become  a  ruin. 

When  I  look  around  me,  I  feel  ashamed  of  my 
former  apprehension.  If  I  trembled  at  the  blast 
which  has  hitherto  attended  us,  shall  I  not  stand 
aghast  at  a  warring  of  wind  and  ocean,  to  convey 
any  idea  of  which  the  words  tornado  and  simoon  are 
trivial  and  ineffective?  All  in  the  immediate  vicin 
ity  of  the  ship  is  the  blackness  of  eternal  night,  and 
a  chaos  of  foamless  water;  but,  about  a  league  on 
either  side  of  us,  may  be  seen,  indistinctly  and  at  in 
tervals,  stupendous  ramparts  of  ice,  towering  away 
into  the  desolate  sky,  and  looking  like  the  walls  of 
the  universe. 

As  I  imagined,  the  ship  proves  to  be  in  a  current 
— if  that  appellation  can  properly  be  given  to  a  tide 
which,  howling  and  shrieking  by  the  white  ice,  thun 
ders  on  to  the  southward  with  a  velocity  like  the 
headlong  dashing  of  a  cataract. 

To  conceive  the  horror  of  my  sensations  is,  I  pre 
sume,  utterly  impossible ;  yet  a  curiosity  to  penetrate 
the  mysteries  of  these  awful  regions  predominates 
even  over  my  despair,  and  will  reconcile  me  to  the 
most  hideous  aspect  of  death.  It  is  evident  that  we 
are  hurrying  onward  to  some  exciting  knowledge — 
some  never-to-be-imparted  secret,  whose  attainment 


MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle  365 

is  destruction.  Perhaps  this  current  leads  us  to  the 
southern  pole  itself.  It  must  be  confessed  that  a  sup 
position  apparently  so  wild  has  every  probability  in 
its  favor. 


The  crew  pace  the  deck  with  unquiet  and  tremu 
lous  step ;  but  there  is  upon  their  countenance  and  ex 
pression  more  of  the  eagerness  of  hope  than  of  the 
apathy  of  despair. 

In  the  meantime  the  wind  is  still  in  our  poop,  and, 
as  we  carry  a  crowd  of  canvas,  the  ship  is  at  times 
lifted  bodily  from  out  the  sea!  Oh,  horror  upon 
horror ! — the  ice  opens  suddenly  to  the  right,  and  to 
the  left,  and  we  are  whirling  dizzily,  in  immense  con 
centric  circles,  round  and  round  the  borders  of  a 
gigantic  amphitheatre,  the  summit  of  whose  walls  is 
lost  in  the  darkness  and  the  distance.  But  little  time 
will  be  left  me  to  ponder  upon  my  destiny !  The  cir 
cles  rapidly  grow  small — we  are  plunging  madly 
within  the  grasp  of  the  whirlpool — and  amid  a  roar 
ing,  and  bellowing,  and  thundering  of  ocean  and 
tempest,  the  ship  is  quivering — oh  God !  and — going 
down! 

Note.— The  "MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle"  was  originally  pub 
lished  in  1831,  and  it  was  not  until  many  years  afterward  that 
I  became  acquainted  with  the  maps  of  Mercator,  in  which  the 
ocean  is  represented  as  rushing,  by  four  mouths,  into  the 
(northern)  Polar  Gulf,  to  be  absorbed  into  the  bowels  of  the 
earth;  the  Pole  itself  being  represented  by  a  black  rock, 
towering  to  a  prodigious  height. 


THE   OVAL    PORTRAIT 

THE  chateau  into  which  my  valet  had  ventured  to 
make  forcible  entrance,  rather  than  permit  me, 
in  my  desperately  wounded  condition,  to  pass  a  night 
in  the  open  air,  was  one  of  those  piles  of  com 
mingled  gloom  and  grandeur  which  have  so  long 
frowned  among  the  Apennines,  not  less  in  fact  than 
in  the  fancy  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe.  To  all  appearance  it 
had  been  temporarily  and  very  lately  abandoned.  We 
established  ourselves  in  one  of  the  smallest  and  least 
sumptuously  furnished  apartments.  It  lay  in  a  re 
mote  turret  of  the  building.  Its  decorations  were 
rich,  yet  tattered  and  antique.  Its  walls  were  hung 
with  tapestry  and  bedecked  with  manifold  and  multi 
form  armorial  trophies,  together  with  an  unusually 
great  number  of  very  spirited  modern  paintings  in 
frames  of  rich  golden  arabesque.  In  these  paint 
ings,  which  depended  from  the  walls  not  only  in 
their  main  surfaces,  but  in  very  many  nooks  which 
the  bizarre  architecture  of  the  chateau  rendered  nec 
essary — in  these  paintings  my  incipient  delirium,  per 
haps,  had  caused  me  to  take  deep  interest ;  so  that  I 
bade  Pedro  to  close  the  heavy  shutters  of  the  room — 
since  it  was  already  night — to  light  the  tongues  of 
a  tall  candelabrum  which  stood  by  the  head  of  my 
(366) 


The  Oval  Portrait  367 

bed,  and  to  throw  open  far  and  wide  the  fringed  cur 
tains  of  black  velvet  which  enveloped  the  bed  itself. 
I  wished  all  this  done  that  I  might  resign  myself,  if 
not  to  sleep,  at  least  alternately  to  the  contemplation 
of  these  pictures,  and  the  perusal  of  a  small  volume 
which  had  been  found  upon  the  pillow,  and  which 
purported  to  criticise  and  describe  them. 

Long,  long  I  read — and  devoutly,  devoutly  I 
gazed.  Rapidly  and  gloriously  the  hours  flew  by 
and  the  deep  midnight  came.  The  position  of  the 
candelabrum  displeased  me,  and  outreaching  my 
hand  with  difficulty,  rather  than  disturb  my  slumber 
ing  valet,  I  placed  it  so  as  to  throw  its  rays  more 
fully  upon  the  book. 

But  the  action  produced  an  effect  altogether  un 
anticipated.  The  rays  of  the  numerous  candles  (for 
there  were  many)  now  fell  within  a  niche  of  the 
room  which  had  hitherto  been  thrown  into  deep 
shade  by  one  of  the  bedposts.  I  thus  saw  in  vivid 
light  a  picture  all  unnoticed  before.  It  was  the  por 
trait  of  a  young  girl  just  ripening  into  womanhood. 
I  glanced  at  the  painting  hurriedly,  and  then  closed 
my  eyes.  Why  I  did  this  was  not  at  first  apparent 
even  to  my  own  perception.  But  while  my  lids  re 
mained  thus  shut,  I  ran  over  in  mind  my  reason  for 
so  shutting  them.  It  was  an  impulsive  movement 
to  gain  time  for  thought — to  make  sure  that  my  vis 
ion  had  not  deceived  me — to  calm  and  subdue  my 
fancy  for  a  more  sober  and  more  certain  gaze.  In 


368        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

a  very  few  moments  I  again  looked  fixedly  at  the 
painting. 

That  I  now  saw  aright  I  could  not  and  would  not 
doubt ;  for  the  first  flashing  of  the  candles  upon  that 
canvas  had  seemed  to  dissipate  the  dreamy  stupor 
which  was  stealing  over  my  senses,  and  to  startle  me 
at  once  into  waking  life. 

The  portrait,  I  have  already  said,  was  that  of  a 
young  girl.  It  was  a  mere  head  and  shoulders,  done 
in  what  is  technically  termed  a  vignette  manner; 
much  in  the  style  of  the  favorite  heads  of  Sully.  The 
arms,  the  bosom,  and  even  the  ends  of  the  radiant 
hair  melted  inperceptibly  into  the  vague  yet  deep 
shadow  which  formed  the  background  of  the  whole. 
The  frame  was  oval,  richly  gilded  and  filigreed  in 
Moresque.  As  a  thing  of  art  nothing  could  be  more 
admirable  than  the  painting  itself.  But  it  could  have 
been  neither  the  execution  of  the  work,  nor  the  im 
mortal  beauty  of  the  countenance,  which  had  so  sud 
denly  and  so  vehemently  moved  me.  Least  of  all, 
could  it  have  been  that  my  fancy,  shaken  from  its 
half  slumber,  had  mistaken  the  head  for  that  of  a 
living  person.  I  saw  at  once  that  the  peculiarities 
of  the  design,  of  the  vignetting,  and  of  the  frame, 
must  have  instantly  dispelled  such  idea — must  have 
prevented  even  its  momentary  entertainment.  Think 
ing  earnestly  upon  these  points,  I  remained,  for  an 
hour  perhaps,  half  sitting,  half  reclining,  with  my 
vision  riveted  upon  the  portrait.  At  length,  satisfied 


The  Oval  Portrait  369 

with  the  true  secret  of  its  effect,  I  fell  back  within 
the  bed.  I  had  found  the  spell  of  the  picture  in  an 
absolute  life-likeliness  of  expression,  which,  at  first 
startling,  finally  confounded,  subdued,  and  appalled 
me.  With  deep  and  reverent  awe  I  replaced  the 
candelabrum  in  its  former  position.  The  cause  of 
my  deep  agitation  being  thus  shut  from  view,  I 
sought  eagerly  the  volume  which  discussed  the  paint 
ings  and  their  histories.  Turning  to  the  number 
which  designated  the  oval  portrait,  I  there  read  the 
vague  and  quaint  words  which  follow : 

"She  was  a  maiden  of  rarest  beauty,  and  not  more 
lovely  than  full  of  glee.  And  evil  was  the  hour 
when  she  saw,  and  loved,  and  wedded  the  painter. 
He,  passionate,  studious,  austere,  and  having  al 
ready  a  bride  in  his  Art:  she  a  maiden  of  rarest 
beauty,  and  not  more  lovely  than  full  of  glee;  all 
light  and  smiles,  and  frolicsome  as  the  young  fawn ; 
loving  and  cherishing  all  things ;  hating  only  the  Art 
which  was  her  rival;  dreading  only  the  pallet  and 
brushes  and  other  untoward  instruments  which  de 
prived  her  of  the  countenance  of  her  lover.  It  was 
thus  a  terrible  thing  for  this  lady  to  hear  the  painter 
speak  of  his  desire  to  portray  even  his  young  bride. 
But  she  was  humble  and  obedient,  and  sat  meekly 
for  many  weeks  in  the  dark  high  turret-chamber 
where  the  light  dripped  upon  the  pale  canvas  only 
from  overhead.  But  he,  the  painter,  took  glory  in 
his  work,  which  went  on  from  hour  to  hour,  and 


370        Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe 

from  day  to  day.  And  he  was  a  passionate,  and 
wild,  and  moody  man,  who  became  lost  in  reveries ; 
so  that  he  would  not  see  that  the  light  which  fell  so 
ghastly  in  that  lone  turret  withered  the  health  and 
the  spirits  of  his  bride,  who  pined  visibly  to  all  but 
him.  Yet  she  smiled  on  and  still  on,  uncomplain 
ingly,  because  she  saw  that  the  painter  (who  had 
high  renown)  took  a  fervid  and  burning  pleasure  in 
his  task,  and  wrought  day  and  night  to  depict  her 
who  so  loved  him,  yet  who  grew  daily  more  dis 
pirited  and  weak.  And  in  sooth  some  who  beheld 
the  portrait  spoke  of  its  resemblance  in  low  words, 
as  of  a  mighty  marvel,  and  a  proof  not  less  of  the 
power  of  the  painter  than  of  his  deep  love  for  her 
whom  he  depicted  so  surpassingly  well.  But  at 
length,  as  the  labor  drew  nearer  to  its  conclusion, 
there  were  admitted  none  into  the  turret;  for  the 
painter  had  grown  wild  with  the  ardor  of  his  work, 
and  turned  his  eyes  from  the  canvas  rarely,  even  to 
regard  the  countenance  of  his  wife.  And  he  would 
not  see  that  the  tints  which  he  spread  up'on  the  can 
vas  were  drawn  from  the  cheeks  of  her  who  sat  be 
side  him.  And  when  many  weeks  had  passed,  and 
but  little  remained  to  do,  save  one  brush  upon  the 
mouth  and  one  tint  upon  the  eye,  the  spirit  of  the 
lady  again  flickered  up  as  the  flame  within  the  socket 
of  the  lamp.  And  then  the  brush  was  given,  and 
then  the  tint  was  placed;  and,  for  one  moment,  the 
painter  stood  entranced  before  the  work  which  he 


The  Oval  Portrait  371 

had  wrought;  but  in  the  next,  while  he  yet  gazed,  he 
grew  tremulous  and  very  pallid,  and  aghast,  and 
crying  with  a  loud  voice,  This  is  indeed  Life  itself!' 
turned  suddenly  to  regard  his  beloved: — She  was 
'dead!" 


END  OF  VOLUME  ONE 


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iflM°7'Rn  o  AN* 



Onll  £.  t    0  J     cf 

tOAK  DEPT. 

";/22  1993 



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